Ships from Every Star
by magnusvictor
Summary: Mallux Caveran the Hierarchy veteran, Ashley Williams the newly-minted Spectre, and an ever-growing flotilla of ships.
1. Chapter 1

Mallex Caveran had been deployed to what felt like every back-country planet in known space at least twice: The first time around to do his duty to Home and Hierarchy by putting would-be rebels back in their correct place, and the second as an embedded reporter watching the next generation of soldiers fight the next generation of rebels.

To many of his colleagues, it was disheartening. But why should it be? The Hierarchy endured, peace in the galaxy continued, and he got paid to tour known space more extensively than even the most spoiled Asari university student. It was only fair that each generation got their chance at such a privilege.

This was the first time, though, that he was sent to a planet that he hadn't set boots on beforehand, and a "Citadel Core World," at that. Hah. If the Council hadn't intervened back then, though, things may have gone differently.

The shuttle flared, gravity in the cabin jumping by perhaps a third as the pilot decelerated for landing. Mallex tensed, feet scratching at the soles of his boots. Proper civilian shuttles managed their gravity better – the last time he'd felt such rough handling, the pilot had at least had the excuse of being shot at.

"On behalf of our captain and crew, thank you for flying Trans-Orbital, and welcome to Vancouver."

He waited in-line to disembark with more patience than he thought he had in him. Admittedly, it was no worse a wait than he'd been through many times over a long career — "Hurry up and wait" was the life of _any_ soldier, even if the humans had phrased it the best.

Still, he finally worked his way clear of the shuttle with a happy cant to his mandibles, stepping out into the concourse. Now that he had room, he could read his omni-tool's latest message without someone peering over his shoulder.

Or around his shoulder; humans were _short_ when they weren't in armor.

The message turned out to be exactly what he was expecting, meaning that he wouldn't have to wait once more for his friend to arrive. She was in the main parking lot, several stories above on the roof of the passenger terminal.

He laughed to himself as he strode off to the nearest elevator. She probably couldn't leave her car for long enough to meet him outside the gate; some enterprising museum custodian would snatch up the lovingly-maintained old crate for their collection.

The elevator was somehow more packed than the tiny shuttle had been, although it was more tolerable now that he was closer to getting away from the crowds. The plates atop his head kept prickling, telling him that his sergeant was a half-second away from shouting a reminder about proper spacing to the flat-faced recruits under the veteran's care.

Mallex shook his head, causing the nervous businessman to his right to duck away from his fringe as the spikes whistled overhead. Sergeant Kamastis had unexpectedly retired well over a decade ago, what with his bondmate surprising him with a daughter.

Probably still more work than riding herd on a dozen fledgling soldiers, come to think of it. Mallex did occasionally give thanks that his own future didn't promise children any time soon.

The elevator doors opened atop the spaceport hub to show the exact old skycar that he had expected, with the after-market raised roof above the passenger's seat just tall enough for him to fit.

This time, he did shoulder his way through the small crowd squeezing out of the elevator, marching forwards to the car as eagerly as a fledgling recruit on his first day of leave. The black-furred woman pretended to stay focused on her own omni-tool, but he knew that her grandfather had raised her better than that.

"Williams."

"It's 'Ash,' or you're 'Sir,'…_Mal_" She said, glancing up with the grin he knew she'd been hiding, and paused. After looking him up and down, she raised one eyebrow. "You're in uniform."

"Know a better way to have some breathing room in a human shuttle than wearing a Hierarchy hardsuit?" He flicked one mandible wide to take the bite out of his words. "Besides, it seemed…fitting, for your tour."

"It might, at that." Ash reached up and pulled his head down to hers, foreheads resting against each other for a few heartbeats. Then she ducked away and patted the roof of her car. "You know which seat's yours."

Ten minutes later, and they were outside the first stop. Well, the one that Mallex suspected would end up taking up the whole day's schedule, and the one he'd dressed up for.

The War museum. The only war in human history, even nearly two centuries later, that needed no other descriptor. Just 'the War,' no matter how much Terra Firma may prattle on about Shanxi.

He still didn't quite know how to feel about it, even as a Turian. The rest of the galaxy agreed that the humans had just made-up the Abyssal War to explain away the nuclear scars that still marked their homeworld. Only the sons and daughters of Palaven went so far as to even entertain the notion of sentient warships. Admittedly, it stung many Turians that the humans' Spirits had visited them so much more openly than had their own, but then again Palaven had never strayed so perilously close to collapse as Earth had.

Not even during the Rebellions.

Of course the Spirits hadn't stayed around for long afterwards; they knew well enough that mortals were best left alone when possible. His father had certainly drilled it into his head how the Spirits would judge any person's life only when it had played out in full. All accomplishments were weighed against future misdeeds; sins could be absolved by proper atonement.

Either way, it had seemed fitting to Mallex that he wear his old armor to the museum, a view seemingly shared by the older human who manned the kiosk at the entrance. The man nodded respectfully to the Turian as he handed over an archaic wax-paper brochure. The human's well-kept uniform was unfamiliar: definitely not present-day Alliance, and not in service during Shanxi. An old veteran, then, for all that the man was likely younger than Mallex himself. Mallex returned a nod of his own before letting Ash lead him inside the building.

Given that it was the middle of a work-day, local time, it was unsurprising that the museum was all-but-empty. The darkened main hall soared upwards and stretched back into the shadows, lit only by towering holograms of humanity's protectors.

Gazing up at the faces of humans long-past — sort-of, at any rate — he was struck by how much the museum reminded him of a Remembrance Hall back home. Perhaps somewhat over-sized and lacking the cushioned booths that would line the main room, but it did remind him of why the Hierarchy had found a cultural friend in the Alliance despite their rocky start. The respectful silence of the double-handful of other visitors — and Ash, most surprisingly — further served to remind him of childhood visits to the family Hall.

As the holograms changed to a different set of 'ship-girls,' an idle thought struck Mallex. Did they count as 'larger-than-life' renditions if their non-human bodies had been larger than the museum itself?

Regardless, he made a note to see about finding clothes like that for Ash. She might deck him for suggesting it, but if she wore them even half as well as this — he glanced down at the name below the projection — '_Musashi_' did, it would be well-worth the pain.

The tour inevitably led outside, to the small wharf that jutted out into the harbor. The display-board helpfully informed him that the museum stood on the site of a hastily-built naval base from the War, and that the wooden planks which sagged worryingly underfoot had been preserved from that era.

At least the single ship moored at the edge of the waterfront was well-maintained, if somewhat small. A single handful of humans were applying a new coat of paint, with two of them hanging over the side on a small platform while the third — a gray-furred old-timer — leaned over the railing above.

Stopping to read the information panel, Mallex tried to fit the vowel-dense human words out through a mouth utterly unsuited for them. After a few tries that sounded wrong and left his jaw aching, Mallex's pride was not mollified in the slightest when Ash patted him on the upper arm.

Especially not given the smirk that he could hear in her voice. "You'll get it eventually."

He did not dignify that with a response, instead leaning in closer to the weather-beaten placard and squinting. Underneath the borderline-opaque plastiglass, the English text must have been hard to read even for a native speaker. But this was his first visit to one of humanity's holy sites, and he'd not shame his own Spirits by getting the name wrong.

That being said, hopefully this human Spirit would be somewhat understanding. He turned to admit defeat and ask Ash to pronounce the name for him.

But the wharf leading back to the museum was empty of everything save for a few tendrils of fog rolling in from offshore. Metal clinked from behind him, and he turned to see Ash standing by the gangplank, unclipping the rope which hung across it to bar the way. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer with a grin. "You can squint at a placard meant for those who slept through history class, or you can come aboard."

He hesitantly walked over, mandibles wide in surprise. "Are you sure?" He nodded at the prominent sign next to the gangplank which advertised in large, bold letters that even he could read 'STAFF ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT'.

"Of course!" Ash crossed her arms and leaned back against the bannister, grin deepening. "Spectre credentials get you into the best parts of museums."

"But she is more than a museum, I should say. Would not her Spirit object? Should we not ask someone first?"

"I cleared it with the curator before we got here; don't worry." As he drew closer, Ash leaned forwards and snagged one hand, pulling him onto the gangplank with the sort of energy that had always endeared her to him. "Besides, you're forgetting two points."

"Is that so?"

"One, she fought alongside great-great-grandmother back during the War, so I think I would know her wishes a bit better than you do." She held up his hand, unfolding two of his fingers using the perplexing jungle of fingers on her own hands. "Two, she's 'Canada's Fightingest Ship,' and if even half of the stories you've told me and granddad over the years are true, you're the 'Citadel's Fightingest Turian.'" She shrugged. "Honestly, from what I've read about her, I think she would have liked to meet you."

He let out a huff of laughter despite himself. "I'll do my best to live up to that honor, then." With a glance around to ensure that nobody else was nearby, he added "From what you've told me, we might just live long enough to meet her, after all." He held up two hands, making the air-quotes gesture that he knew would get Ash to see red. "What with the 'Geth Dreadnoughts' that everybody's all worried about."

As expected, Ashley flinched as if struck, glaring at him momentarily before relenting. "You wouldn't find that half as funny if you'd had to put up with some of the idiots that I have. The Council's been sitting on their _fucking_ thumbs for _years—_" with visible effort, she cut herself off and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, and when she opened them again Happy Ash was back. "All of which can wait for tomorrow, and the skipper's trial. For now, there's you, me, and great-great-grandma's best friend to visit. So, welcome aboard HMCS _Haida_!"

More than an hour later, and they emerged back on-deck after touring through what felt like every last compartment below. As short as humans were now, they must have been downright child-sized when they built ships like this, either that or just resigned to a lifetime of back-pain. Mallex dearly hoped that the ship's Spirit wouldn't mind the scratch marks that the top of his fringe had left on what felt like every hatchway.

Blinking at the intensified sunlight — it must be near mid-day, by Sol's position above — he stretched luxuriantly, cartilage popping up and down his spine now that it could finally straighten up once more.

Ash crossed her arms and rested her weight on one hip as she smirked up at him wordlessly.

He smirked and half-muttered "Don't look at me; you're the one with _flexibility_." A cheeky waggle of the mandibles got the message through, judging by how Ash's face reddened.

"Hush!" She clapped one hand over his mandibles and glanced around quickly, but nobody was nearby. Spectre access or no, he'd have thought that _someone_ would have been around by now to check on the two soldiers poking around such a valuable site.

Before he could catch himself, he collapsed his mandibles inwards as his head darted forwards to plant a kiss on her palm. Maybe all the endorphins released from his back-stretching were getting to his head.

Ah, to the hells with it. He _was_ effectively on vacation until tomorrow.

Ashley squeaked in surprise, and then her face reddened even further in embarrassment. "Someone could see!" Her voice was several octaves above its usual calm tone as she smacked one hand against his chest in mock-outrage.

Mallex only smiled in response – the sheer range of sounds that a human could make could be downright endearing, at times. Like a fledgling whose voicebox hadn't solidified, yet. Certainly a far cry from the veteran warrior that he knew Ash to be, even if he'd never seen her in action with his own eyes.

Of course, that only made it all the more endearing. "And who would that be, exactly? The sailors working on the other side of the ship?" He leaned in again, and Ashley met him halfway in an embrace. With his chin resting atop her soft, furry head, he muttered "The second — and only, for the time being — human Spectre can't normally enjoy much privacy, I would think."

Ash hummed in agreement. "Less than I'd like, that's for sure."

"Coming from a Navy brat, that _is_ a strong condemnation."

With a chuckle, she moved her head to the side and pulled his hands down to her hips in a signal they'd first worked out almost a year ago. Obligingly, he pulled her upwards and off her feet, his own head moving down in preparation for a kiss—

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" A new voice interjected.

He dropped Ashley to the deck with a muted clang and quickly spun to face the newcomer. He'd seen the way that her grandfather's name had been dragged through the human news broadcasts for forming a friendship with a Shanxi veteran; he certainly didn't want to see what would happen to Ash for _this_. Gossip shows all over Council space had jumped on the first human Spectre's 'quarian connection' hard enough; he didn't want to see what would happen to the second Spectre.

Thankfully, the red-furred human woman who had spoken was several meters away, leaning against the guardrail and gazing out across the harbor. Maybe she hadn't seen anything, or just didn't want to make a point of it.

Either way, best to move away from that possibility. "A bit cold for my taste, but a beautiful view, to be sure." He nonchalantly leaned against the railing himself. A quick glance down at the water below — far too deep to see the bottom — and he jerked back upright. If the Spirits had meant for Turians to travel on the water, They would have made them float.

Now the other woman did look over, gaze flicking from Mallex to the water, and back. A lopsided grin slid onto her face as the woman — more of a girl, really; certainly younger than Ash if he was correct — nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Most of the folks we see around the museum here are human, and it's still cold for most of them."

Now Ashley joined the conversation, having now gained control over her voice from the earlier surprise. She slid around Mallex on the narrow walkway between the superstructure and the guardrail. "Well, some of us are used to it, Miss —?"

"Oh, of course." The newcomer extended her hand to Ashley in a handshake. "I'm Helen, a tour-guide here at the museum."

"Ah, I was beginning to wonder if Ms. Williams had gotten us a private tour of the ship." Said Mallex, stepping up and offering his own hand.

After a split-second of a pause, Helen shook his hand as well, five slender fingers rather inexpertly grasping three larger ones. Definitely not someone who had much experience meeting Turians, indeed. Mallex congratulated himself for remembering to file the edge off of his talons this morning — the sort of vakar-headed determination that humanity was known for across the galaxy tended to make one forget how fragile their bodies actually were.

"Sorry about that – I was a bit late in getting news of our VIP visitor, and by the time I showed up you had gone belowdecks." Helen said. "And I know quite well how close-quarters it can get down there. Much more fun with two people than with three." She smiled knowingly at Ashley, and winked.

Mallex sighed. So much for not seeing anything. "No problem, Miss." In an obvious-even-to-him attempt to move the conversation elsewhere, he added "This _is_ a very fascinating ship that you have, here. Built…what, two-hundred years ago?"

Ashley interjected "Two-forty-one, actually. Almost a century before the War."

And just towards the trailing years of the Geth Wars, before the quarians gave up — unofficially, of course — and retreated from the Veil. There were a few ships still in service from that era — almost all _in _the Migrant Fleet, of course — but none of them looked as well-looked-after as _Haida_. "She looks good for her age."

"Thank you; we take good care of her." Replied Helen with a blush. She looked to Ash. "You're familiar with our old girl?"

"Had an ancestor who worked with her, during the War. Granddad told me all of the old family stories as I grew up."

Helen nodded. "Fought from the first year of the War 'till the last. Forty years of service, sunk eight times and came back in less than a month each time, asking for more."

Spirits certainly wouldn't have been deterred by anything as simple as death, naturally. "It is humbling how determinedly humanity's Spirits fought for them."

"'Spirits, huh?'" Helen shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess that's as good a term as any. And besides, any good ship — human or alien — would have fought for their people and country during something like the War."

Before he could catch himself, Mallex blurted out "Tell that to the quarians."

Ashley elbowed him in the side, hard — which hurt her more than it hurt him, but it caught his attention. Helen just smiled wanly. "From what I've read, who's to say that they didn't? It sounds like it was an awful confusion, the evacuations. All sorts of records must have been lost in all that. Fighting a hopeless war without allied support." A shadow flickered over the woman's face, but then she brightened somewhat. "They didn't win, either way, and I wouldn't blame a ship for keeping a low profile afterwards, out of shame or despair."

The mournful echo of a foghorn echoed across the water as if in agreement.

Before Mallex could make another blunder, Ashley interjected "Besides, look at the average age of the ships in the Migrant Fleet. They've got good engineers over there, but nobody's _that_ good." Only Mallux could hear the whispered "Well, besides Tali."

"She gets it." Responded Helen. "Must be that family connection, yes?"

Before Ashley could respond, Mallux's omni-tool chirped at him. Both women looked at him, and he quickly checked the new-message notice. "Sorry, I've got to check this one. I'll be back in a moment."

He backed away from the two, who shrugged and descended into their own conversation. Mallex took a few steps away and brought up the full message. It was short, and not too unexpected. The Alliance was putting on a varren-and-vakar show for the press and to keep the Council from losing face, but everybody knew what the verdict would be. It was only Batarians, after all, versus the Saviour of the Citadel.

No, the only mystery had been whether things would even get as far as a public show-trial before the charges were dismissed. Whatever the Citadel might say was true, the Alliance had thrown their full support behind the 'Mad Spectre's' warnings. If Shepard said that a Batarian planet was a needed sacrifice to buy time, then who on Earth would disagree?

That being said, Alliance military structure wasn't too different from that of the Hierarchy. There would be an actual court-martial, if only so that Shepard could report on his actions and thoughts to the brass directly. And now Mallex's contact had told him when that trial would be held – exactly what the veteran, reporter, and veteran reporter needed to get the scoop on the other networks.

Unfortunately, that 'when' was more 'right now.' The Turian checked his map, and peered across the harbor. Just above the thickening fog, he could just barely make out which of the buildings in the naval base there held the specified courtroom. No way was he going to be able to get onto the base in-time to catch even the end of the trial, what with having to get his press license moved to an earlier day.

_Maybe_ if he asked Ashley really nicely — and made a few promises that they'd both enjoy — he could ride her tailwind into the scoop of the decade, if not the century. He looked up from his omni-tool and over at the two women.

Both of whom were utterly lost in conversation, Helen pointing out the finer details of one of the clunky weapons systems above to a rapt audience.

Mallex shrugged. He'd taken the reporting job more as an excuse to travel than out of any real ambition. Let some younger reporter with a career to build get the story. He closed his omni-tool, but not after setting it to do-not-disturb.

Ashley was not so distracted talking to Helen that she did not hear a 200-kilogram armored Turian walk across the metal deck to her. "Anything important?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Enjoying the view?"

"Immensely. It's like she just got out of an overhaul, all clean equipment and shining paint."

"She does most of the work for us, honestly." Said Helen. "We just keep her supplies lockers stocked, and _Haida_ does the rest."

Ashley frowned, but Mallex responded first. "What about those men we saw over the side, painting?"

Helen frowned. "Who? Oh, ah, there are a few old volunteers from around the area who like to come over and give _Haida_ some personal touch. Old-timers, mostly, and a few with even older family connections to her. I guess they must have finished up before I got here." She shrugged. "As I was saying, _Haida_ loves being a museum ship, I reckon. She came back after the War just for that purpose, you know."

Ashley just nodded, but Mallex hadn't heard this particular story. "How do you know?"

Helen gestured to Ashley, who spoke. "The War ended with the Counterattack — I know I've told you about that one; the Krell-canal and all that. _Haida_ was part of the first wave to enter the device, leading the operation along with many of the other most-accomplished ships."

"And it worked." Mallex nodded along.

"Well, we assume it worked." Interjected Helen. "The Abyssals never returned, at least. But neither did almost all of the ships sent in after them. A few ships had stayed behind, but they all chose to follow their comrades eventually. Only a few dozen ships came back, spread out over years afterwards. Most of them had been museum ships before the War; I guess they liked the job."

"Anyways, so over a decade after the Counterattack, everybody's just about packed up shop here." Ashley waved to the base around them. "Great-great-grandma said that she was about the last to stay behind as the base was demilitarized. And then one day, out of the fog comes _Haida_, as fresh-looking as she is today." Ashley smiled to herself, gazing off into the distance. "As great-great-grandma put it, the old girl sidled up to her favorite spot by the wharf — where she can watch the whole harbor-front and especially the dockyards opposite — and drops anchor, signal flags crowding her lines to spell out 'IM HOME'."

She visibly blinked away tears before continuing. "Great-great-grandma ended up living just down the street for the rest of her life, staying with her old friend. _Haida_ stayed in her steel hull, but granddad said that that never bothered great-great-grandma."

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Ashley continued speaking, lost to the world. "Granddad sold the house back in the '40s when the family moved out to the colonies, of course." Now she did turn her head, to catch Mallex's gaze. "Maybe if he hadn't, I'd have been in her place." She nodded at Helen, who wisely kept quiet.

"Then I wouldn't have met Alex, nor eventually his granddaughter." Mallex smiled wanly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "And for what it's worth, I _know_ that nobody else would have done as good a job at Shanxi — before or after the shooting stopped — as he did."

Ashley smiled warmly up at him, and Mallex was lost to the world.

Until a deep groan echoed up from below their feet. While Ashley and Mallex frowned, glancing around them, Helen instead blushed deeply before turning and pointing angrily at the base of the smokestack a few meters aft. "I _know_ that was sweet and sappy! You don't need to complain about it so loudly!" To the two guests, she added "Sorry. _Haida_ may be sleeping, but she gets a word or two in from time to time."

Ash and Mallex glanced at each other for a moment with eyebrows raised before breaking out in laughter.

Laughter which was interrupted a few seconds later by a _much_ louder bass roar that boomed down from over the harbor, throwing spray into the air as dark shadows descended through the mid-day fog.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer (that seems so universal on this site that I assume it's necessary) I own neither Mass Effect nor Kantai Collection. Owning the first would make me EA, and the second would make me a Weeb.

A/N: Some of you might notice that I referred to the city in last chapter as "Montreal" when ME3's opening is clearly in *Vancouver*. This wasn't a change in the story, it was just me making a mistake. I mean, it's not like they're two utterly-different cities on opposite sides of a large continent, right? At any rate, let's just pretend that I'd been saying "Vancouver" all along.

* * *

To his embarrassment, Mallex was still staring up at the sky when Ashley grabbed his arm and wordlessly started hauling him back towards the boarding ramp.

"I'll, uh, I'll catch you two later, then." Helen half-mumbled as she, too, gawked upwards as death descended towards the city.

"Spirits above and below, what _are_ those?" hissed Mallex, even as he knew the answer.

The two jogged down the clattering boarding ramp, breaking into a run as the first _booms_ of distant heavy mass-accelerator echoed across the water. "Reapers." Ashley spat. "Who else? And they're early. I don't think even the Skipper expected them for another few months."

"At least someone expected them at all." Mallex wasn't exactly privy to the doings of the upper echelons of the Hierarchy — else he would've been a much better-paid reporter — but if they had been readying themselves the way the Alliance had been for the last two years, then they'd done a fantastic job of hiding it.

A loud clatter of metal from behind him caused the turian to duck reflexively and stop to glance back. He was just in time to see the last half-dozen links of _Haida_'s anchor-chain plunge into the water. The boarding-ramp that they had just left followed the anchor into the harbor as the small warship began to drift away from the dock.

He didn't see the docent — Helen — either on the wharf or in the water. As if reading his mind, Ashley called back "Don't worry, she'll be fine."

"Bu— are you sure? How?"

"I've got a hunch. Just trust me."

With one last glance at the ship whose forward funnel was starting to issue thin streamers of black smoke, he ran after Ashley. Seeking to inject some normalcy into the situation, he shouted ahead as he sprinted after the Spectre, "What's our objective?"

"Get to Shepard." Ashley passed the — now empty — front desk just as Mallex caught up with her. "One way or another, things are going to center on him."

"Assuming he's alive when we get to him."

"He'll be fine. Skipper's learned his lesson from last time he died." The two of them emerged from the museum and made for Ashley's car. Just as they made it to the vehicle, a softer but deeper _boom_ sounded from behind them. Three more followed in close succession.

For the second time in as many minutes, Mallex whirled around to see a sight that made no sense. _Haida_'s main-battery turrets — ancient mechanisms that hadn't moved in almost two centuries — were trained out to port and elevated nearly halfway to vertical.

And gun barrels that had been old when Mallex's great-grandparents were born now had gunsmoke trailing out of them. Even as the shocked turian watched, another staggered volley roared out towards the enemy.

Explosions — small ones, admittedly — walked their way up the hull of one of the smaller Reaper vessels as it slowed to land on the waterfront across the harbor. The 'legs' of the alien vessel splayed out as if in surprise at the first sign of resistance.

"Come on – get in!" hissed Ashley, slamming the door behind her and startling Mallex out of his staring. He wrenched the door open and threw himself into the seat. Damn it all, _he_ was supposed to be the experienced one here, not gawking around like some twenty-years-out reservist!

Nevermind that it had been twenty-two years since he had been active-duty.

Either way, he couldn't help but stare out the front window as Ashley brought the car online. In the distance, the jet-black monstrosity absorbed three more salvoes — to no apparent effect — as it slammed to earth, crushing a coffee shack under one foot.

The small — "small" — Reaper pivoted on its feet and leaned back, aiming its 'snout' towards the impudent destroyer. Mallex tensed — regardless of what it had or hadn't been, footage of the attack of the 'Geth Dreadnought' had been on nonstop repeat on most Citadel news networks for months after the event. He knew what would happen next.

Before the expected flash came, though, an eye-searingly bright beam rocketed overhead and skewered the Reaper near the base of two of its legs. The alien warship staggered backwards, one of the legs ripping free in a shower of sparks and molten metal.

"That was a Thanix shot!" Mallex had seen enough boastful Hierarchy weapons-demonstration videos to recognize the glowing beam of liquefied alloys. He also knew how well-guarded the actual design was.

"Officially, the Alliance developed their own version independently."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, do you really think anyone's going to care anymore?" Ashley took one hand off the controls to wave at the smoke rising over Vancouver's lofty skyscrapers. The aircar lurched upwards from the ground, but instead of climbing to legal traffic altitude — suddenly and unsurprisingly empty — it stayed low and darted towards the open harbor. Ashley tapped a short command into the console. "Local IFF has us as a friendly, now, but they're not the ones I'm most worried about. You armed yet?"

"With what? They didn't exactly let me check my rifle on the flight over."

Ashley jerked her head backwards, and Mallex glanced at the seat behind her. And the bulky Alliance duffel-bag that slumped from the seat to the foot well. Of course. "I've got two in the bag. While you're in there, get my armor out if you would. I'll slap on what I can when we land."

A glimpse out of the window showed Mallex that they were now out over the harbor, and _low_. The background heavy-weapons fire had picked up to the point where it became a constant, low rumble. Hopefully that meant that the environment was too target-rich for a single aircar to be worth targeting.

He hauled the folded-up brick that was Ashley's avenger out of the bag first, and then rummaged after the armor plates and webbing. "Glad to see you got rid of that pink monstrosity."

"Best thing about be— incoming, hang on!"

The duffel bag rose under Mallex's hands as the aircar dove steeply. Not a second later, and an ear-splitting _crack_ zoomed overhead. He grabbed hold of the bag and pulled the entire thing forward into his lap. Between the turian in bulky armor and the sack full of yet more armor, it was even more of a tight squeeze than normal. But now he could actually look around as the aircar approached the military base that he had been looking at from _Haida_'s deck what felt like an hour ago.

Of course, it looked rather different now, with all the smoke, debris, and barely half as many buildings standing as when he'd first seen it.

"Which building's the one with Shepard's trial in it?" Ashley snapped, as the vehicle dove towards the waterfront below.

For a few seconds, Mallex scanned the rapidly-approaching buildings confusedly. The tall spire in the background that he'd used as a reference had collapsed, and the angle was different. But eventually…ah. "The one with a dead Reaper draped over where it used to be."

"Understood." Without missing a beat, Ashley put the aircar on a direct course for the smoldering wreckage.

"Are you certain that he's still alive?" Mallex eyed the ruins. He wouldn't say that it was impossible, but humans _were_ squishy.

"As I said, Skipper's got a thick skull. Besides, you haven't seen the things Cerberus put into him."

"You're certain?"

"Yes." Ashley swerved the vehicle around in a tight curve, bleeding speed and dropping towards the broken pavement. "And I may have put a snooper in his omni-tool, which is forwarding me his life-signs. He's pissed-off right now, but still breathing."

"You've been spying on your superior?" Mallex grunted as the aircar slammed into the ground with a spine-numbing crash and groan of the landing gear. He wrenched the door open, and threw the duffel bag out. Grabbing his helmet from the back seat — it hadn't seemed right to wear it to the museum, but he was glad that he'd taken it out of his luggage — he contorted himself out of the seat.

"Ex-superior. Now a fellow Spectre, technically a peer."

"Still surprising, for you." He tossed the avenger-brick to Ashley, slapped his helmet on and clicked it into place, and finally got to work on extricating her new armor from the bag.

He could hear the various clicks-and-whines as the rifle unfolded and was put through a rapid readiness-check. "The Council wasn't certain that Shepard wouldn't run, and wanted me ready to follow him if he bolted."

"You don't think he would?"

She snorted. "Of course not. Someone from his crew would have gotten scapegoated — probably Joker, by seniority — and Shepard wouldn't let that happen. But this made the Council happy."

"I suppose they're each new enough to be a bit worried, given what the last rogue Spectre did to their predecessors." The turian used both arms to gather up the plates and webbing of Ashley's new armor and toss the whole mess over to her.

"Doesn't excuse them being morons. A tracker, in Shepard's own omni-tool? If he had made a run for it, you _know_ who would have been the person helping him the most. Tali'd have had the 'tool scrubbed before they even left the city."

"So you've told m—" Mallex frowned as he pulled the last weapon from the duffelbag. The rifle's flat-topped barrel and lack of built-in optic differentiated it from an avenger, but he could swear that it looked…familiar. Then it hit him. "Wait, this is—!"

"Granddad's service rifle, yes. I spent all last week fixing old parts and putting it back together."

In the middle of a warzone, with continuous heavy weapons fire in the distance and a rising tide of small-arms fire all around, Mallux stared down for several seconds at the old rifle in his hands. "You don't think—?"

"You _know_ he'd have wanted you to have it. Besides, when he handed it over to you last time, that was the beginning of…us." She waved one hand. "You and our family, I mean."

He snapped himself out of his surprise, and began to work through the weapons-check procedures that Alex had first shown him more than two decades ago. The carbine was much as it had been back then — plastic furniture, short barrel mostly covered by a shroud, and a stock that was entirely the wrong shape for a turian shoulder.

Frankly, he'd have preferred almost any other small-arm right now from a practical perspective. But it was a touching gesture amidst the destruction all around. "Right. Well, thanks." Unsurprisingly for a weapon that had been looked over by Ashley's experienced and nimble hands — that he knew so well — the carbine was in perfect condition. No coolant leaks, no scoring on the furniture, no residue buildup near the muzzle.

He doubted that that would last long.

Mallex finished his weapons-check just as Ashley snapped the clasps on her clamshell armor shut. "Does your tracker tell you where Shepard is?"

"Yes, but it doesn't have to. I checked with Joker – I picked this little plaza because it's where Shepard's headed. _Normandy_'s on her way down for a pickup."

"In all this?"

"It's the _Normandy_. At least there's not a volcano on top of everything, this time." Ashley monotone as she sealed her helmet visor closed, preventing Mallex from telling via smirk if she was being sarcastic or not.

He returned the favor, keeping careful control over his mandibles to prevent any emotion from showing on his face. "Of course, how could I forget."

For all that the very air around them hummed with distant — and some not-so-distant — gunfire, the wreckage-strewn plaza where the two veteran soldiers huddled was actually quite calm.

In fact, it was downright deserted. "Where is everyone?" mused Mallex.

"By now? In the bunkers below the town. Everyone who was in or near a large building downtown, at least. Every major building in the city's got a one-way drop-corridor down to the old tunnels. Surprise evacuation drills every other week, for the last year or so. They built them after the War to stand up to a rolling nuclear bombardment — I don't think even the Reapers'll have gotten into them, yet." Ashley clenched and unclenched her left fist, a sign of anxiety that Mallex was well-familiar with. "Then again, not everybody would have cleared the streets in time. Some probably thought they'd skip the 'drill.' And where there's Reapers—"

A low, almost-mournful howl echoed through the maze of collapsed and partly-collapsed buildings.

"—there's husks." Ashley spat.

Mallex nodded slowly. He hadn't ever faced the techno-organic monstrosities himself, but he'd seen the videos. He eyed the various approaches to their position. The triangular plaza had once been a rather beautiful park-like triangle that cantilevered out from the naval base towards the harbor. Now? The grass — a rather off-putting shade of green, rather than the proper reddish hue of a Palaven highland — was burnt off in those places where it wasn't buried beneath debris, and part of the outermost structure had sheared off into the water far below.

The only thing 'beautiful' about it right now was that the only easy approach to where the two stood was via a single, narrow stairway that rose perhaps five meters from the doorway below. "Can husks jump?"

"Not _that_ well. Just keep your fire steady and don't overheat your rifle."

He glanced down at Ashley, affronted. "You know I have more time on the battlefield than you have time _breathing_." Spirits only knew how much Ashley liked to tease him about his 'old age.' For all that was holy, he wasn't even sixty yet! He was barely middle-aged!

"Not against husks, you don't." She managed, voice strained.

Ah. That sort of tension before a firefight was not good — best to distract her. "Why'd you bring Alex's old rifle along, anyways? This old piece is as much of a museum artifact as that car. If you were really expecting a fight, you'd have brought more ordnance."

The Spectre kept her gaze down the stairway, but he could see Ashley drum her fingers nervously where she held her avenger at low-ready. "As a…gift. I, ah, thought it would be nice." With the better-than-human hearing that a focused Ashley would have remembered, Mallux heard her add a muttered "Figured it was better than a ring, anyways."

"I see." _That_ much of human traditions, he did know. He hefted the old carbine in his hands, eyeing it in a different light. It _was_ certainly better than a ring, especially given how poorly those tended to work with less-than-slender turian fingers. Either way, that was a conversation for later. "It's a good gift. Elegant, practical, and personal."

"And it goes boom, which I knew would suit you." Ah, it was good to see that Ashley was back to her usual self.

"That it—" a flicker of motion downrange caught his eye. Something flickered behind the plastiglass doors leading out to the plaza.

Something blue, that glowed.

"Contact!" barked Ashley, followed instantly by a controlled burst from her avenger.

The husk had only just shoved the door open when it collapsed to the ground, riddled with holes.

Mallex caught the second husk with his own double-tap before a conscious thought had even crossed his mind. Good to see that his training held, even with an unfamiliar rifle. The other door banged open, this husk managing an entire step out into the sunlight before it was sent to join its fellows.

Then the flood arrived.

A tide of grey-blue flesh — if that word still held, for something so visibly altered and mechanical — surged out of the strobe-lit interior and towards the stairway.

Mallex flinched with every shot that he poured downrange. Partly because the non-turian stock meant that most of the recoil was borne by his shooting hand, but also partly because every jolt of weapons fire brought back memories.

Husks may be barely recognizable as humans anymore, but they still reminded him uncomfortably of the unshielded and thinly-armored 'unknown alien' marines that he'd fought at Shanxi. They'd fought a lot smarter than husks, of course, but the 'you might have bullets, but we have bodies' determination was quite familiar.

Still, a half-second glance over and down to where Ashley crouched beside him was enough to reassure him. He was on the right side, this time.

A break came in the flow after some two-dozen fleshy-metal abominations had jammed the doorway shut. Ashley immediately hit the sink-release toggle on her rifle and yanked the heavy slug of metal out with one gesture. She dropped the glowing heat-sink into the cooling pouch on her hip and replaced it with a new sink, all with practiced fluidity.

Mallex grinned, mandibles splaying so wide that it hurt. Spirits above and below, it felt good to watch his Ashley in action.

Her helmet rotated slightly, and he could feel her eyes on him. Finding it impossible to get his mandibles under control, he covered by making a show of looking over his — when had it stopped being "Alex's"? — rifle. Its older-model fixed heat-sink had already cooled to ambient, as expected given how over-sized the heavy thing was.

At least the mostly-intact bench that they crouched behind was a good surface to rest the achingly-heavy weight of one of humanity's first mass-accelerator rifles on. Turians might outclass humans when it came to height and reach, but the damned furry pyjacks led the galaxy in terms of proportional upper-body strength.

"You _did_ do a good job of fixing this old thing up. It works like new."

"Thanks." Ashley responded, distractedly. Just as Mallex opened his mouth to ask, she held up one finger before tapping a command into her omni-tool.

A man's calm voice that Mallex had heard on many a Citadel vid-interview — and the advertising jingles of more than a few Presidium stores — boomed out from her helmet speakers before she dialed it down. "—says he's spotted another rendezvous point, one that I can make from here. It's a small beach just east of the base perimeter. Coordinates sent to your 'tool. Can you make it there from your position?"

"Can do, skipper. A beach party, you say? Won't be the same without Wrex." Humanity's two Spectres shared a laugh, before Shepard cut the link.

Mallux glanced between Ashley and the aircar behind them. In her armor, Ash wasn't much smaller than him — and much too large to fit behind the controls. Not without removing her armor, in a combat zone. "You have a plan, no?" Mallex may have more combat experience, but Ashley had been selected as a Spectre for good reason.

"Yes. You remember last month? The classic vid I roped you into watching?"

He blinked at the non-sequitur. To be honest, he mostly remembered the evening _after_ watching that admittedly-entertaining vid in Ashley's cramped Presidium apartment. "The one with the spy, and enough improbable gadgets to make the STG blush?"

"That's the one. You laughed at the car driving up onto the beach, yes?"

"Yes…oh." His stomach dropped all the thirty stories between them and the water below. "Oh _Spirits_ no."

"Relax, your armor'll take the hit on the chin. Or the feet, as the case may be. Besides, would you rather head inside and try all those stairs?"

He glanced down the stairs at the corpse-packed doors. Movement was still visible behind the mountain of deceased — re-deceased? — flesh, but the husks hadn't tried to push their former comrades out of the way for a second try. Yet. "Fair point. But it's not the fall that I'm worried about."

Mallex straightened to his feet, apparently not fast enough for Ashley who grabbed his left shoulder and hauled him over towards the precipitous edge of the plaza. "Turians and water don't mix, I know. But I also know that your suit is vac-sealed to enough atmos of pressure either direction, so follow your compass straight south to shore once you hit the bottom."

They passed her aircar, and Ash tapped her omni-tool. The vehicle beeped loudly, and the locks engaged with a click loud enough to hear over the ambient gunfire. Mallex hooked one hand over his shoulder towards the stairs behind them. "Are you worried about the husks stealing your car, now?"

She shrugged as they reached the vertiginous edge, somehow unaffected by the great height. For his part, Mallex's fingers and toes were rapidly numbing, and he focused on Ashley's response to distract himself. "If the car's still here after the battle, I'd like it back."

"After the battle? I'm not sure the _city_ will be here afterwards!" He insisted to himself that that slight edge of panic was caused by the battle, not the drop.

Ashley's hidden smile was evident enough in her voice as she patted Mallex on his armored chest. "Oh ye of little faith." With the third pat, she leaned into the larger turian hard enough to send both of them toppling over the edge.

"Really?" He managed to choke out as his stomach did its level best to climb upwards and pummel his brain for allowing this to happen.

"Really!" she shouted back, barely heard over the rushing wind.

The gyros in their armor finally managed to sort out the spin and put them in a feet-first orientation. That did not do as much as he would have liked to calm his stomach.

Ashley glanced down at the approaching surface and pushed herself off from Mallux, floating several feet away just in time for—

The water reached up and smacked Mallux right in his heels. His knees pistoned up into his chest, knocking the wind from him even as the joint servos whined loudly. Spirits, he'd even been going fast enough that his shields had activated…and been utterly unable to stop what was effectively the planet Earth slamming into Mallux at projectile velocity.

But the seals held. While the sudden cold and darkness below the surface was a shock, the armor-integrity readout inside his helmet was still a comforting brown across-the-board.

That being said, five-times his own height below the water's surface was _not_ somewhere that he wanted to be. Forcing his half-liquefied legs to move, he shook himself into motion and trudged off eas— no, south. The shore was south, right?

His feet sank halfway-up to his knees with every step in the silty harbor floor. And even down here, the battle above was a constant background noise, eerily distorted. The area darkened, and Mallex craned his head upwards — were all those bubbles rising from him normal? — to see a shadow sweep over the water.

And it was getting bigger.

Spirits above, was it going to land in the water? He spun to the left and right, looking around for Ashley. They needed to move—

The shadow disappeared to the north a heartbeat before an ear-splitting shriek of shearing metal echoed its way through the harbor, like the cries of a dying god. An apt description, if that was another falling reaper.

The deep _boom_ that followed as the craft impacted the harbor bottom heralded a shockwave that raced outwards, slamming Mallex from his feet.

And also slamming one of his helmet indicators from brown to pink. He could _feel_ the burst seal, although his entire body felt like it had dropped ten degrees in an instant.

Amidst the silt and bubbles thrown upwards by the shock, Mallex twisted one way and the other, frantically searching for the leak even as he sought to regain his footing. Omni-gel should fix it.

Or it _could_, if the leak had been anywhere that he could reach with his omni-tool. The stream of bubbles rising from behind his left ankle, though, was at just the right angle where he couldn't get the applicator to reach.

Nothing for it but to 'sprint' for the shore. He should mak—

A hand grabbed his left arm and hauled him forwards. Ashley. She glanced down at his foot and waved her own omni-tool...whose display was flickering irregularly.

Great.

The two of them continued moving as quickly as possible through the murky water, leaning almost comically-far forwards as they ran.

Then Mallex's left leg spasmed, the knee servos jerking the limb straight and kicking him up from the harbor floor to slowly fall back. Must have been water damage from the flooding; he could feel the pressure rising in his ears.

After a pause, Ashley jumped up after him, catching him and even continuing upwards. Only after several seconds did he realize that they were accelerating upwards. Was her armor buoyant?

The two broke the surface, and the din of battle came back with a vengeance. Mallex gasped out "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

"Couldn't find you in the murk down there. Besides, walking's faster than swimming with a dead weight."

"I _can_ swim, you know." That had actually been one of the first things that he'd learned to do when first assigned as a liaison to the Alliance. Humanity was second only to the Hanar — for obvious reasons — when it came to their love for water. They even had the Asari beat, somehow.

"_Nobody_ swims well in full armor. But _my_ armor has water-jets."

That would explain why they were moving — slowly — towards the shore. "Who builds vac-suits with water-jets?"

"Alliance _Marines_, Mal. Unlike everyone else, we take that name seriously."

The two bobbed along in the choppy water as Mallex went over his knowledge of English. Oh, right. "Because most people acknowledge that space _isn't_ an ocean. You're the only people who don't call your space-born soldiers by a logical name."

"And lucky for you that we don't!"

They were almost to the shore — at least, Mallex could finally see the harbor-floor below them, if not reach it yet. As Ashley pulled him ever closer to nice, dry safety, Mallex craned his head to look back at the harbor.

It was _much_ busier than it had been just minutes earlier. The fallen reaper — one of the _Sovereign_-sized ones, not a destroyer — lay almost-submerged in the center of the channel, like the galaxy's biggest pitch-black sandbar. Around it, surface ships of every size and configuration churned the water into foam as they raced to and fro, decks alight with muzzle-flashes. It was as if _Haida_ had cloned herself a half-dozen times over.

The reapers were still giving much better than they got, of course. Spherical, laser-armed fighters swarmed overhead, contending with the angular Alliance interceptors maneuvering as pairs. Another _Sovereign_-sized monstrosity bared its maw and vomited a beam of iridescent fire that swept across the harbor.

One of the _Haida_-clones disappeared in a flash of steam and smoke, another heeled sharply to one side as she swerved out of the way, and a third—

Mallex blinked.

—a third blinked out of existence even as he watched. He barely caught the flicker of movement as a small human dove aside into the water where a building-sized warship had been a heartbeat before. "Spirits."

"Got it in one. They wouldn't sleep through a fight like this. Just wait 'till the big girls wake up!"

The two of them waded ashore, thunder rumbling overhead as the weapons-battery on the mountain to the north traded fire with some unseen target far above. For his part, Mallex was still stealing every glance he could back over his shoulder as incarnate Spirits themselves fought tooth-and-claw against a tide of enemies thousands of times their mass and millions of years their seniors. Even reapers might not be able to maintain their shields while deep in a gravity well, but the fight was still an extremely uneven one. "They had better 'wake up' soon, for there to be anything left to fight over!"

Finally free of the water, he knelt down and un-sealed his left boot, ears popping as water poured out of his armor.

Ashley just shook her omni-tool back and forth, shaking water free until the display stabilized. "Won't be long. I'd wager that every summoning-chamber in the system is standing-room-only right now."

As he was digesting that, a shadow settled over them. Mallex looked upwards past crisscrossing tracers and energy-beams to see a ship swooping down towards them. Long, narrow bow that widened into a broad fuselage flanked by four swept-back engine nacelles, small raked T-shaped sensor antennae, all nimbly dodging through a dense web of weapons-fire.

There was only one ship that it could be. One of the most unique in the galaxy: a Turian-originated design, refined by Cerberus of all people, staffed by an incongruous menagerie of experts and amateurs who had somehow survived everything the galaxy could throw at them.

"You know, any of my colleagues would sell their children to a Batarian merchant just to get aboard the _Normandy_. Just setting foot aboard would net half-a-dozen awards and prizes for journalism."

"And a Purple Heart." Ashley joked. "The last reporter who tried to push her way aboard spent a week in Huerta Memorial for her trouble."

"Yes, I saw the video. Great right hook on Shepard's part."

"No honor among reporters, huh?"

"She earned it, and more."

A metallic from behind them had Mallex snatching for the gun mag-locked to his back — and which he ruefully realized that he hadn't checked since the dive — but it was 'only' the reporter-bane Spectre himself nonchalantly bending part of the naval base's steel-bar fence aside. Once there was enough room, he clambered through, followed by —

"Skipper, Councilor."

"It's 'David' to you now, Williams." Rumbled one of the four most senior politicians in the galaxy good-naturedly.

Shepard dismissed the glowing blue aura around his fists with a flick, as if shaking water away. Mallex might not share quite the same level of anti-biotic suspicion that pervaded much of the Hierarchy, but it _was_ profoundly unnatural to see someone so easily force their way through metal columns as thick as Mallex's arm.

"Glad to see you too, Ash." The Spectre, light armor lacking a helmet as if daring any enemy to get past his barriers, looked Mallex up and down. His gaze lingered on the antique rifle held muzzle-down in the turian's hands, and he smiled broadly. "The new Mr. Williams, I take it?"

Mallex choked on his reply, and Ashley's own came out an octave higher than normal. "Not yet." She waved a hand upwards to take in the battle still raging around them. "Got distracted."

Sand was kicked into the air all around them as the _Normandy_ came in to hover just above the ground, boarding ramp yawning open. Shepard trudged towards his ship, waving for them to follow. "The nerve of some people, interrupting you like that."

Mallex finally managed to get a response together and had just opened his mouth when a horn — not the bass roar of a reaper, but a hissing half-squeak — shrieked nearby. Steaming towards them with a heavy list, trailing smoke from two shattered funnels and a raging fire on her ruined bridge, came one of the _Haida_-clones. Her uppermost forward turret was a blackened wreck, and her bow forward of the turrets was crumpled at the waterline and sheared away above there.

The turian winced and braced for the shock when the ship inevitably ran aground right next to the hovering _Normandy_, but just before the moment of impact the ship disappeared like a soap bubble, like the one he'd seen earlier.

Ashley took off sprinting towards the beach, shouting. "_Haida_!"

Without thinking, Mallex ran after her. As they neared the crashing surf, he saw a piece of wreckage float ashore.

No, a person. A human.

A small human.

Ashley dropped to her knees next to the figure face-down in the sand, whose charred clothing was almost indistinguishable from the blackened flesh that could be seen through the many ragged holes in the fabric. One arm was twisted behind her head in a way that must mean dislocation even for a human, and her bare legs were a bleeding ruin of shrapnel damage. Thankfully, what Mallex had first thought was massive bleeding from the head turned out to be just her long fur splayed out and knotted.

Ashley grabbed the girl below the shoulders and pulling her upright into a sitting position. "Hold her upright, like this." She barked, and Mallex grabbed the drooping girl's shoulders as Ashley rummaged around her belt pouches, searching.

"Spirits, is she—?"

Before Ashley answered, the 'human' — who could only be a Spirit, no matter how corporeal her form felt — squirmed weakly and coughed red-black blood onto the sand. "I can- I can—" She batted weakly at Mallex's hands and tried to pull her feet in underneath herself.

Ashley just patted the girl's — ship's? woman's? She was almost Ashley's size, now that she wasn't a wretched heap on the ground — back, softly. "Just rest. We're getting you shored up." She patted an empty spot on her belt. "Mal, you have any medigel? Mine came off in the dive."

"I do, but it's dextro-only. Would it work?"

"I…don't actually know if any medigel would help."

Shepard appeared at Ashley's shoulder, waving an Alliance-stamped medigel packet in front of the newer Spectre's face. "Let's not risk it, though."

"Thanks, skipper." Ashley snatched the life-saving trauma-treatment, and began applying it over the Spirit's more dangerous-looking wounds.

The ship-woman's head lolled to one side, twisting to look up at Ashley. To Mallex's surprise, the unfocused eyes, blood-matted fur and crimson-streaked face were familiar. "Helen?"

The 'docent' just murmured a few mushy, incoherent words, eyes wide.

Ashley nodded, still applying medigel. "As I thought. Mal, meet _Haida_, herself. She's not all-there right now, what with that burned-out bridge."

Mallex nodded, dumbly.

_Haida_ coughed up another bubble of blood, but her mouth bent into a smile as she stared up at — or through — Ashley. "I— I ga' them a goo' few lumps, eh Admira'?"

"You sure did, _'Ida._" Ashley didn't stop working over her patient for a second. "Just hold on a few more minutes, now."

But _Haida_ wasn't finished. Her undamaged arm raised limply towards the harbor, where the smoke from her destroyed sister still lingered in an angry cloud perched on the water. "If Iroqoi' getsh bac' befo' me, teh her I cahl top bunk." Her head flopped forwards again.

"Oh no you don't." Ashley bit out, voice strained as she upended the medigel packet over the remaining wounds and squeezed the remainder out in one large glob, smearing it onto the bubbling chest-wound in a shapeless mound that quickly began hardening. Over her shoulder, she barked "Skipper, you still have that miracle-worker onboard?"

"Chakwas still rules over her domain, yes. But we can do one better." The two Spectres grabbed the now-unconscious _Haida_ below her shoulders and lifted her upright, carrying her quickly towards the waiting _Normandy_.

Mallex followed in their wake, unsure on how to help. Training and experience had him scanning the area for any more husks, but none made an appearance. They finally reached the _Normandy_'s boarding ramp where it hovered a hand's-breadth above the ground, and impressive display of piloting for a small-cruiser-sized warship. Her shields flickered as they blocked the occasional shot, but she sat steady as a rock.

Councilor Anderson stood at the base of the ramp, conversing with a black-furred woman in a tight-fitting suit of light armor that did an excellent job of flaunting her well-formed waist. Mallex nodded – the _Normandy_'s ex-Cerberus XO was well-known to be 'photogenic.'

That being said, she had nothing on Ashley.

Anderson finished his conversation with a nod and turned to regard the approaching rescue party. "Shepard. It's best that I stay here and coordinate whoever's left alive at HQ. Get the _Normandy_ ready in orbit ASAP and liaise with FLEETCOM for further orders."

"Understood, councilor." Shepard nodded as he passed the older man.

As Anderson turned to leave, he glanced between Ashley and Mallex, and his gaze too caught on the rifle in Mallex's hands. The councilor smiled to himself with a wink, and trudged away up the beach to where several Alliance APCs waited.

Mallux just shook his head. Did _every_ human on this too-wet planet know about him and Ashley?


	3. Chapter 3

[A/N:] This chapter is mostly trying to set up more of the differences between this version of the story, and the usual ME storyline.

* * *

Mallex hesitated before following the two Spectres onboard the _Normandy_. He technically hadn't been asked aboard, after all.

Lawson, who had stood to one side while the stricken _Haida_ was carried past, looked back at him an appraising eye. After a few seconds of silence, she waved him over. "Well, come aboard."

She strode up the ramp, and Mallex hurried to follow, walking quickly to keep Ashley in sight. On a ship this size, getting lost would be easy. The ramp began to close just as he reached the top, and he felt acceleration push him towards the floor and backwards.

As the ramp thudded and sealed closed behind him, Lawson spun on her heel, barring the way. She looked Mallex up and down with a critical eye, and then grinned at him.

Spirits help him, if she commented on the rifle…

"I see that Shepard trained Williams well."

Mallex chose to remain silent, merely raising one brow in question.

"It took Shepard nearly seven hours from being promoted to Spectre until he brought Vakarian onboard. Williams got her own little ceremony just this morning with Anderson, and less than five hours later here you are."

Ah, Detective Vakarian. Also 'Archangel,' by the rumors that Mallex had heard, and with enough scars to lend those rumors a healthy amount of credence. Spirits help the man if he ever found himself alone on Tuchanka.

"Events conspired somewhat to move things along faster this time." He tried to look around the human, and see which side-corridor Ashley had disappeared down.

She didn't take the hint. "So they did. But a fair warning if you're coming along as the first of Williams's entourage: things aren't likely to slow down any time soon."

"So I've heard." To the hells with subtlety. "Which way to the medbay, if you please?"

"EDI can show you the way. Buؙ—"

"Who is EDI?"

"—But the medbay isn't where your Spectre has ghosted off to. You want the pools."

He frowned. "The pools?"

"EDI will explain. EDI?"

Mallex was proud to say that he had become so used to today's strange happenings already that he didn't even flinch when a metallic-silver human woman stepped _out_ of the wall next to Lawson. He even managed to keep his voice dead-pan. "Neat trick."

"Thank you, Mr. Caveran." The newcomer said.

XO Lawson strode off down a side corridor. "I'll leave you two to it."

"Signing you out, Agent Lawson." Two faintly-glowing eyes — eerily reminiscent of husks, really — trained their attention back on Mallex. "Please follow me to the repair pools, Mr. Caveran."

Without a sound, she spun on one heel and departed down the central corridor of the ship. Mallex followed, thinking. EDI wasn't a human name that he'd ever heard, and given that she was part of a human naval project, Cerberus or no…

"EDI is an acronym, I take it?"

"Correct. Evoked Directable Intelligence."

Which didn't really explain much. "That mean anything?"

"I am _Normandy_."

Well, he'd guessed that much. "You're a ship-Spirit."

"Correct. I was created by Cerberus as the centerpiece of their efforts to recall humanity's ship-spirits early, before the arrival of the Reapers." They turned down a side-corridor, Mallex's boots thudding along the floor although he noticed that EDI's footsteps made no sound. "My hull was designed to support and deploy other ship-spirits, while my own avatar was drawn forth in order to better interface with my organic crew."

"Cerberus with an army of ship-Spirits? There's a sobering thought." Mallex reflexively checked that his helmet sensors were recording. He hadn't been told _not_ to do his job as a reporter, after all.

"A fleet of ship-spirits, Mr. Caveran. That was the plan." The long corridor passed by several doors, each marked with more examples of humanity's favorite invention and greatest curse on the galaxy: acronyms. FF, DD, CL, CA, CB, CV, BB, DN, and even more; enough to make Mallex's eyes water. Really, what was wrong with just writing-out what one meant to write instead of scratching out most of the letters and hoping your reader would understand the survivors? "But I am the first, and until now, only ship-Spirit to be summoned."

"Sounds lonely."

"Not with this crew." The two of them reached a closed hatch, which slid open as they approached. At least this one was properly-labelled: 'REPAIR POOLS'.

Stepping through, he blinked in surprise to see the two Spectres standing next to another EDI. All three were murmuring to each other, watching over where _Haida_ reclined, mostly-submerged in a steaming raised pool.

Mallex turned to ask 'his' EDI, but she had disappeared. Literally. He shrugged – the Spirits _did_ work in mysterious ways, and alien Spirits were bound to be twice as strange. The turian walked over to stand at Ashley's right shoulder, taking off his helmet and mag-locking it to his hip. Both of the Spectres had their own helmets off, probably just as glad as he was to be free of the confined feeling.

They halted their conversation as he approached, and Ashley pulled him forwards with a smile. "Now there's time for a proper introduction. Skipper, meet Mallex Caveran. Mal, John Shepard."

The two men shook hands, the senior Spectre grouping his fingers together to mimic the three proper-sized fingers of a turian hand and make for a comfortable handshake; a trick that even Ash had taken a while to master. Mallex nodded – the first human Spectre was widely-lauded for his adeptness at interacting with non-humans.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Caveran." His gaze slid sideways to Ashley. "If you'll be staying with us for a while, I think EDI can find a room for you."

"He stays as long as I do." Replied Ashley for Mallex. "He—" she paused, thinking for a second before shrugging. "We'll share a room, conserve space."

"Dropping the secrecy, then?"

"If you don't mind, that is." Interjected Mallex. "I'm aware that Alliance ships have different regulations on that sort of thing than do Hierarchy vessels."

The two Spectres shared a glance, which broke out into a chuckle. "You'll fit right in aboard _Normandy_, then. I think half our bunks never see the crewmen and specialists assigned to them." Shepard made for the exit, and waved for them to follow.

"And here I'd thought that those rumors were just part of the Shepard mythos."

Ashley laughed. "Oh, the really fun ones _are_ just myths." With a smirk at her fellow Spectre, she added "Well, _most_ of them. There was that time that Liara walked in on—"

"Yes, yes, it was awkward for everyone." Shepard elbowed Ashley jovially.

"I know, skipper; Tali couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh with me or cry on my shoulder afterwards. Poor her, having to face Saren the next morning as a girl and not a woman."

Shepard turned to glare at his compatriot, cheeks burning. "Nothing like that was going to happen. We were just good friends, then." He added in a mutter, "Besides, she was too young."

"Wish you'd told me that beforehand, skipper. I lost a months' pay on that bet."

"That's what you get for betting against a Krogan, Ash."

Mallex just kept turning his head back-and-forth, tracking the rapid-fire banter between humanity's two paragons. This conversation might be a bit too personal for him to ever publish, but it was utterly fascinating to any decent reporter nonetheless.

Shepard shook his head, and changed the conversation topic. "Speaking of the Prothean-mad Professor, we're en-route to Mars to pick her up now. The dig site got hit as hard as Earth, but she says she pulled something valuable out of the Prothean Archives first, something to use against the Reapers."

"Good to hear, skipper. Putting the old crew back together?"

"Plus a few you haven't met, yet." His voice kept its usual bite of humor, but a reproachful undercurrent weaseled its way in. "We could have used you in the Collector campaign, you know."

"I know, sir. But…_Cerberus_."

"You really think I would have gone over to those pirates?"

"They were certainly proclaiming exactly that to anyone who'd listen, sir."

"So I've heard." Shepard sighed as the group turned a corner, walking past the endless hallway of acronyms once more. "They _did_ bring me 'back,' Ash. I woke up in one of their facilities, and there wasn't exactly a 'next shuttle to Arcturus' waiting for me."

"So you worked for— sorry, 'with' them for six months."

"And destroyed the Reapers' main henchmen, saved a colony, opened a door for negotiations with the Geth…"

Mallex added his own take. "He also got a light cruiser out of it." The turian patted one bulkhead wall for emphasis. "Pretty good return on six months of 'slumming it' with a bunch of rogue privateers."

Ashley shot a look at him over her shoulder. "_Et tu_, Mal?"

He shrugged. Humanity — well, the Alliance, at least — had a reputation for a sort of crusading moral-absoluteness. A rather black-and-white way of looking at galactic politics, which really didn't help them win friends after First Contact. It had almost been a relief to most of Council society when Cerberus had appeared after nearly a decade of the Alliance proclaiming their moral outrage over everything from Ilium to the Shadow Broker, or even the very concept of Spectres.

That being said, Ashley's firm adherence to her moral compass was _utterly_ adorable, so Mallex couldn't complain too much about humanity's strangeness.

When no answer was forthcoming, Shepard continued. "Besides, I'm not with them anymore. We had a…disagreement over the Collector's home base. The Illusive Man wanted to study it, I wanted to see what kind of bang it made. I won."

"Yet his chief trouble-shooter's still your XO."

"Miranda is _at least_ as disillusioned with Cerberus as I am, now. Had her first few times on the receiving end of TIM's plots. Didn't like it."

_That_ part was definitely news-worthy. The Alliance had always strove to distance themselves from their officially-unsupported Terminus action group. But when the STG fingered the _Normandy_'s XO as being one of Cerberus's best agents just as Shepard's pre-trial was beginning, it had made a stir in Council space that the Alliance refused to hand her over.

But if it could be revealed to the public that Cerberus had kicked her to the curb already, then that might help settle things. "Would it be possible to get an interview with your XO, Spectre?"

"Inter—?" Shepard shot a glance backwards, before rounding on Ashley. "You brought a reporter on my ship?"

"He picked it up as a hobby, really. Not a muck-raker."

"Well, as long as he's tame."

Ashley shot a smirk Mallex's way. "Don't worry sir, I've got a leash for him in my bag."

"Didn't figure you for the type, to be honest."

Desperate to change the subject, Mallex interjected "Do you have a team ready for the extraction on Mars, Spectre?"

"Conditions at the dig site are still unknown; Liara's transmission was badly-garbled as it is. I'll know what the team setup should be by the time we make orbit. But we're short-handed enough that another spear-carrier would be useful. You're volunteering, I take it?"

"Absolutely." Not only would close-up footage of the Alliance's one-man demolition-team be very desirable, but also "Not going to let Ash run into the fire again without me."

The trio entered a large, circular elevator. The door closed automatically as soon as they passed the threshold, and began moving. "Good man." Shepard looked Mallex up-and-down. "That armor's good enough for now, but I think you'll want to arm yourself with something a bit more modern. Would be a shame to end up breaking that heirloom over some husk's head when a bog-standard Avenger would do the job just fine."

The elevator doors opened, and Shepard waved them out. "Armory's just down the hall, you can't miss it. Ash, you and Jacob get to spar over who rules the armory, now. EDI can find you two a room after you're done if there's time; we should be over Mars in half-an-hour." The elevator doors clicked shut.

For the first time since coming aboard, Mallex and Ashley had a moment alone; EDI had disappeared without fanfare sometime after leaving the pool-chamber. "Anything like the old _Normandy_, Ash?"

"Skipper's still himself, I'm glad to say. The ship herself doesn't feel like home, yet, not without the Old Guard. But knowing Shepard, they'll be along soon enough." Ashley leaned forwards on her toes, armor giving her just enough height to tiredly press her forehead against Mallex's. "Now for that armory. I've heard some very _interesting_ stories about the various toys that Cerberus has showered the Skipper with."

Twenty-eight minutes later, and Mallex was running through the fourth systems-check on his new rifle. Apparently Detective Vakarian had left his old Phaeston behind when he was recalled to Palaven a week ago. The standard-issue rifle of the Hierarchy might have stood out only by its plain-ness compared to the other equipment in the armory, but it was the weapon that Mallex knew inside-and-out.

And besides, he could let his subconscious run through the various checks on the rifle, leaving his conscious mind to bask in the waves of radiant happiness emitted by Ashley as she fawned over the latest utterly-illegal weapons-mod or man-portable super-weapon racked in what was now _her_ armory. The Cerberus agent — _ex_-Cerberus, Mallex reminded himself — Jacob had been wise enough to yield control over the Marine Toy-store.

EDI's flowing-metal head emerged seamlessly from the wall to Mallex's right, and his hands twitched. The Phaeston's heat-sink clattered to the floor, and the display flashed an angry blue at his clumsy handling.

"Commander Shepard has called a briefing in the shuttle bay for all hands participating in the landing."

Mallex sheepishly picked up the dropped sink, while Ashley returned a Krogan-looking shotgun to the rack with a sigh. "No time for familiarization, then. Lead on, EDI."

When they arrived, the shuttle-bay was filled with vehicles…and almost empty of soldiers. Shepard greeted them with a nod, standing beside Miranda and Jacob. "Good, everyone's here."

"You weren't kidding about 'short-handed,' skipper."

"_Normandy_ wasn't even finished with her overhaul when the sirens started. Our marine complement hadn't been assigned yet."

"And Cerberus's had left?"

"No, you're looking at the ex-Cerberus ground-team."

Mallex glanced between Miranda and Jacob. "Are they that good, or was Cerberus that desperate?"

"More the former than the latter." Replied Shepard with a smile and a shake of his head. "On to the briefing. The Reapers have withdrawn from the area, but not before flattening most of the research base. Most of the staff are still bunkered down below the wreckage, but Liara had to retrieve an offline data-packet from the above-ground section. She got her hands on it, but has been evading 'unknown enemy' ground forces ever since."

"Another type of husks, sir?" asked Jacob.

"Unknown; comms are still garbled." Shepard looked around the gathered group. "There's a great deal of communications interference, all coming from the borehole into the old Prothean ruins. The Reapers bombarded it to scrap, and apparently set something off down there."

"Shot up the ruins? Liara must be _pissed_." Ashley joked.

"I pity whoever's stuck down there with her, yes." The senior Spectre continued. "In any event, the Alliance has detailed a marine battalion to retake the facility, but they won't be ready to drop for another hour. We're going in now, pulling out Liara, and getting out."

Ashley continued. "And the other researchers, sir?"

"On-site security hasn't triggered their emergency-alarm yet, so the bunkers still hold. We're not going to get bogged down trying to clean out a sprawling lab complex with just the six of us."

Ashley just nodded, satisfied.

"Everyone good? Good." The Kodiak shuttle behind Shepard began spooling up its engines, and the group donned their helmets with a rattling cacophony of clicks, hisses and taps. "Let's go, then."

The shuttle had set them down outside the complex's main research wing, where the intermittent signal of Dr. T'Soni's omni-tool was coming from. They had advanced through the outer lobby and made for the laboratory section that faced out towards the dig site proper. All along the way, there had been signs of a rushed evacuation – data pads and archaic paper-work strewn everywhere, high-security terminals left on and unlocked — someone would be getting a talking-to from their security team, that was for certain — and unfinished food in the break rooms.

And in a sign which was equal parts reassuring and ominous, no Dragon's Teeth. What had been hunting Liara?

"Got a better fix on her, Skipper?"

"The floor above us, now." He noted. "Must be another stairwell than the one we came down on."

"Or she's climbing around in the HVAC ducts." Joked Mallex. Well, maybe-joked. Asari were well-known to be nimble enough; maybe she could actually move in such a claustrophobic tunnel. The sheer emptiness of the facility was putting him on-edge – he'd read enough reports to know that young or not, the T'Soni heiress was a formidable fighter in her own right. What would have her skittering all over the building yet have gone completely un-encountered by the team thus far?

"As long as she doesn't hit any buttons she shouldn't." added Ashley, an edge in her voice signaling that she might be sharing Mallex's thoughts.

"I hope not; I don't have another mining laser at hand right now." Replied Shepard, before adding "New reading – she's further-in than us, and on the floor above. A vehicle bay, by the site map." He double-timed his way through the group, who followed up stairs which rattled under the pounding of five pairs of armored boots.

The rattling kept going as they shouldered their way into an empty vehicle bay, getting deeper in pitch.

Shepard had his omni-tool up and ready, scanning the room before homing in on a large duct that snaked along beneath the ceiling. "Looks like you were right, Caveran." The Spectre's right hand began to glow blue, gaining strength as the biotic readied himself. "Check your fire as she comes out."

Ten eyes rapidly scanned the room, ensuring that it was empty before settling their gaze at the sheared-off opening in the vent where it neared a catwalk.

A tense few seconds went by, before a light-armored Asari dove headfirst out of the duct, hitting the ground and rolling to aim her pistol at the entrance behind her, right fist ready and glowing.

The intermittent dull thumping of the HVAC ducting got louder, if anything. Looks like the mystery was about to be lifted, but who would it be? Husks? Pirates? The galaxy's most ambitious Batarian raiders, with the worst sense of timing possible?

None of the above, as it turned out.

Two squat, black-armored forms fell ungainly out of the entrance, slamming into the ground but leaping upwards instantly, without a sound. Two arms, two legs, their broad torsos made them look almost Quarian if it were not for the extra-wide, flat-topped helmets. Two armored, triangular snouts snapped upwards to track Liara, and boxy weapons rose towards her.

One gesture from the Asari, and the two floated free of the ground. Liara put two rounds into the nearest target.

A glowing shield deflected them both without effort. The Asari took one step closer, pistol extended to reach through the enemy's defenses.

"Fire." Barked Shepard, dissipating the biotic glow from his fist.

Five rifles coughed in one staccato roar. The enemy furthest from Liara caught most of the fire, but its shields held. The Asari calmly placed her pistol to the temple of the first floating foe, and this time green ichor splattered its compatriot when she emptied the heat sink without flinching.

The biotic Lift dissipated, dropping the group's target to the floor. Apparently unfazed by its comrade's death, the squat-armored enemy twisted its rifle around towards Liara and pulled the trigger.

A trio of eye-searing green beams screamed through the air where the Asari had been a heartbeat before, boiling the steel walls where they did hit. Energy weapons? Or…Spirits help them all if the Reapers had a husk-variant with a small-scale Thanix cannon.

A biotic Throw from Shepard caught the heavily-armed unknown in the chest, hurling them backwards into the wall. Their shield finally dissipated in a bright flash. Concentrated fire from the team perforated them instantly, green-black blood flecking the wall and leaving a streak as the corpse slumped to the ground.

Liara panted, turning to look at the group.

Or _past_ them – the Asari's eyes were wide and looked to be focused a few kilometers behind Mallex. Now that he could see her clearly, he could spot the dark-purple dried blood on her face, and the almost-clear mounds of medigel that dotted most of the blackened holes in her armor.

"Liara?" called Shepard, gently.

Instead of answering, she just strode back to the duct entrance and shouted into it. "Yuri!"

"Another survivor?" questioned Miranda.

More thumps echoed down the thin metal sheeting, before a loud shriek of tearing metal sent two forms spilling out of the duct on the other side of the room.

One was yet another of their assailants.

The other was a tall, skeletally-thin human woman.

The two crashed into a parked forklift, the heavy machine crushed like a child's toy beneath a pair of combatants who didn't even flinch. They rolled onto the floor, all flailing limbs and jabbing fists.

The _Normandy_'s team levelled their weapons, but held fire.

Eventually, the human woman — who Mallex was savvy enough to guess was a ship-Spirit, but what was she doing on Mars? — eventually extricated herself from the melee. The black-armored enemy went for its gun, but before the team could fire the Spirit crossed the distance in two quick strides and planted a wound-back kick straight into its armored nose.

A charcoal-black head snapped around instantly, with crack loud enough to echo through the room.

"Yuri!" Liara jumped down from the catwalk, a faint blue glow turning her fall from a slam into a mere thud. Stumbling, she staggered over to the Spirit as she stood, doubled-over with hands on her knees, panting.

The _Normandy_ team exchanged a glance before Shepard spoke. "Williams, Caveran, check the bod—" he froze, staring. Mallex followed his gaze, to see only blood spatters where the two corpses had been only seconds before. "The Hell?"

Five rifles snapped up immediately, and scanned the room. Where did they go?

But the room was still empty. "Well. On your guard, then. After me." Shepard hurdled the railing and dashed over to Liara and her friend. The rest of the group took the stairs.

The Spirit had now straightened up, her breath steady. "You all right, Blue?" She clapped Liara on one shoulder, the Asari buckling under the impact.

"Y-yes." Liara shook her head and straightened, tired edge banished from her voice. "My friends that I told you about are here, now."

"Only now? Too bad – they missed a great fight!" She turned around, looking over the group. Her eyes lingered on Mallex. "You weren't kidding – there really are all sorts of you people out there! When do the Little Green Men show up? Or the Greys?"

"Greys?" Mallex asked blankly.

"Thin, smart, big eyes? Like to experiment on everything and everyone?" Now that they were closer, it was clear that this Spirit was almost Shepard's height, perhaps a finger's-width shorter if that. "Seen any around?"

The _Normandy_ team exchanged looks. "Must be a pre-Contact ship." Mused Lawson.

"You sure? Sounds like she's met the Salarians, at least."

"Fuck me, they _do _exist!" Apparently they hadn't been quiet enough.

Finally, Shepard took the lead to clear up the confusion. "I'm Commander Shepard of the Human Systems Alliance." He held out a hand.

"Was kinda hoping for a Federation, to be honest. But I'll bite." With a hearty handshake, she added "UNS _Yuri Gagarin_, the _Niña_, _Pinta_ and _Santa Maria_ of Mars all rolled into one." The Spirit spread her arms wide, as if preparing to hug a Krogan. "Welcome to my planet!"

Ah. Humanity's ill-fated first expedition beyond their homeworld's gravity well — moons don't count — was one of the telling examples of humanity's ambition coming to bite them. The lunatics had tried to make it to their star's fourth planet on an absolute minimum of a mass — and fuel — budget.

An unexpected crash of the expedition's lander took the lives of one of the five men aboard and stranding the remainder from the six left aboard the ship in orbit. It would have been an utterly unmitigated disaster had the cause of the crash not been discovered to be the Prothean ruins' intermittent artificial-gravity fields cutting in at the worst moment possible. Those four doomed men spent the remaining weeks of their lives mapping as much of the subterranean complex as possible before starvation claimed them.

Mallex shuddered. Not a fate he'd wish on anyone.

At least the mixed-at-best outcome of that expedition didn't seem to have weighed too hard on their ship's Spirit. "Well, you're just in time. There's a good few more of these guys—" she turned to point to where the third unknown enemy had now also disappeared. "—down in the pit I found. You guys got a nuke or two handy?" She held her hands parallel, an arm's breadth apart. "Big ones, maybe?"

Liara's eyes shot wide-open, and Shepard hastily added "Not going to happen. We've got two-thousand marines en-route, though."

"Not sure that'll be enough. Hey, do you guys have anything to eat? Proper food? Blue tried sharing some of her lunchbox with me — looked like seafood pressed through a cheese grater, and tasted worse." Her stomach grow— well, more of a roar, really. "I think I burned through most of my reaction mass in the fighting."

Leaving the humans to deal with their Spirit, Mallex stalked over to where the third enemy had fallen. "What were these things?" He called over his shoulder.

And flinched as Liara answered from right next to him, having followed without his noticing. "They were Protheans."

Shepard swore. "I thought they looked familiar. Some must have been out on a mission when we hit their base."

The asari shook her head. "Not Collectors. Protheans."

"I don't know what a "Protean" is, but those guys were Abyssals first-and-foremost." Chimed in _Gagarin_.

Every human in the room twitched, but it took Mallex a moment to remember why. "The evil Spirits?"

"More just bloodthirsty, really." Responded _Gagarin,_ between taking bites out of an Alliance ration bar. "An Abyssal won't kill you because she hates you, but because killing things is what she's built for and you looked like a fun fight." She took another bite. "Take these guys: I didn't get a good read on their steel-hulls, but if they'd left their avatar-forms they could have carved up the whole building if they had so much as an anti-debris laser. But that would have been boring, so they've been chasing us all over the place for the last few hours."

The Spirit finished her snack, staring down at the empty wrapper mournfully while the rest of the _Normandy_ team exchanged glances. Eventually, Shepard let out a drawn-out sigh. "The Council will need to know about this. Prothean Abyssals."

Ashley nodded. "I'll comm them and you get the Alliance, if you don't want them to shoot the messenger again." She added with forced levity, "I think I'm still in my Spectrehood 'grace' period."

"Thanks, Ash." Shepard looked to Mallex. "You got footage of those 'Protheans,' right? I suspect that you've got the best helmet-cam here."

"In better-than-life resolution and enough framerate to watch their lasers crawl across the room." Bragged Mallex.

"Good." With one final glance around the room, Shepard ordered "Back outside for the shuttle, then. Looks like those Marines will have to wait on Navy backup. _Gagarin_, did you get a reading on how many Abyssals were in the area?"

"Those three were the only ones I got eyes on, but my mass sensors have two nodes on-scope that match their signatures. They're both still kicking around down in the dig site." She shrugged. "Maybe they're looking for the way out, as lost as I was before I ran into Blue?"

"That is a possibility." Said Liara. "The Reaper bombardment collapsed the upper levels of the old Prothean base. It would be difficult to navigate through such a maze."

"Well, hopefully it'll hold them until orbital support arrives." Shepard mused as the group filed through empty corridors, weapons at the ready. "The Navy's still busy over Earth for now, so they might not have a cruiser squadron at the ready just yet." They emerged out into the main entrance for the facility, stepping past empty security stations and abandoned desks. "_Gagarin_, did you get a sense of how tough those Abyssals were?"

"Not too tough for me!" She bragged, before deflating. "Which says something, to be honest. I wasn't exactly built for a fight, you know."

"I'll forward that to SOLCOM. Any other observations?"

"Yeah. Their bullshit force-fields are a stone _bitch_ to break, if they even can be. Blue's pistol just bounced, and I threw a fucking _desk_ at one of the bastards earlier. No effect. Their armor's shit if you get close or slow enough to get past it, though. 'The slow knife pierces the shield' after all, I guess."

"These 'Abyssals'" ventured Liara, "they are like those that humanity encountered before? These did not seem so dangerous."

"Yeah, 'cause we gave them a good, fun chase to distract them. If we'd just found a bolt-hole and disappeared into it, I'd wager a good bit they'd have just sat back as steel-hulls and carved the facility apart until something more interesting came along. I mean, they're aliens too, but Abyssals are Abyssals."

They stepped outside into the glaring Martian sun, the approaching whine of Kodiak thrusters audible in the distance. _Gagarin_'s head snapped upwards immediately, tracking the approaching shuttle. "Hey, your pilot knows the sort of gravitational bullshit that happens around here, right?"

"The Kodiak's remote-piloted from _Normandy_ by the best pilot in the Alliance." Reassured Mallex. He'd noted the empty pilot's seat on their way down.

"Wait, _Normandie_? Who taught him how to fly a spaceship?"

"SSV _Normandy_, SR-2. She's a steel-hull starship."

"Ah, okay. Damn – was kinda hoping to meet the liner. _Beautiful_ hull shape on that one, you know? And those funnels…" she elbowed Liara and winked "You know what they say about a ship with big funnels, right?"

The exploration ship strode forwards to where the Kodiak hovered, blowing red dust into the thin air. A thoroughly-confused-looking Liara glanced around the party, receiving a shrug from Shepard before they followed after the talkative ship. Ashley stepped over and clasped the asari on her shoulder as she passed.

The team clambered aboard, _Gagarin_ walking around the passenger compartment, inspecting every little readout and mechanism. "So, _Normandy_, huh? She got some sorta fuck-you-physics Faster-Than-Light drive or something?" She hitched one thumb over her shoulder, in Liara's direction. "Blue's been telling me more about these Protheans than I ever learned, but I haven't been able to get her to take a break and tell me about the wider world. I assume she and you" the ship nodded to Mallex "aren't from around here, and I doubt you took a slow-boat here from wherever-you're-from, not unless Blue's a lot older than she looks."

"I'm 106."

"Huh." _Gagarin_ paused. "Hey, what year is it?"

"2183."

"Neat. Hey Blue, that means I still got a whole year on you! I left my slip back in 2076!" She looked down at herself, then over at the tired-looking asari. "Not sure which of us kept her looks better, though." With a shrug, the Spirit rounded on the other alien member of the team. "And are you actually old as fuck, too?"

"I'm not—" began Liara.

"He's 58." Interjected Ashley, a tad defensively.

"Cool. Hey, you got blue squid-hair, too?"

With a snort of laughter, Mallex unsealed his helmet as did the rest of the team. _Gagarin_'s sheer curiosity was bringing back memories of first meeting a young Ashley, all those years ago.

"Oh. Hey, that's neat – you got ant-jaws." Before Mallex could react, the ship poked at his fringe with one finger. "And plated like some kinda dinosaur. How cool is that?"

Shaking his head, Mallex decided on being polite as he extended his own hand. "Mallex Caveran, reporter."

"Huh. Was kinda expecting something more like 'space marine,' but okay." She shook his hand. "You heard earlier, but 'UNS _Yuri Gagarin_.' Oh! And with me is, uh—" she dropped his hand and whirled around. "Hey Blue, what's your name, anyways?"

"Liara T'Soni." The asari also shook hands with _Gagarin_.

"_Doctor_ Liara T'Soni." Added Shepard with a grin.

"A professor, huh? Explains the running lecture I was getting, earlier." The Spirit paused. "Hey, you know the Doc?" Apparently 'Blue' had a new nickname.

Ashley leaned forwards, waving one hand to encompass the entire compartment. "We were all on a team fighting together, a few years ago. Well, except for Mal."

"Huh." _Gagarin_ finally took a seat, next to Liara. The tall ship glanced over the asari next to her. "So: smart, cute, young — well, young-looking — alien space babe. What took you all so long to come back for her?"

Liara flushed a deep blue-purple, burying her face in her hands.

With more than a little blush of red on his own scarred cheeks, Shepard answered. "Liara has been pulling what data she can from the Prothean Archives, data to help fight the Reapers now that they've returned."

"Ah." _Gagarin_'s voice had dropped much of its usual levity. "I take it that they're the fellows your Navy's too busy with to come deal with an Abyssal emergence on Mars? What could be worse than Abyssals?"

Shepard leaned back in his seat, drumming fingers on the top of his helmet. "Reapers _are_ Abyssals, _Gagarin_."

The Spirit flinched as if struck, before leaning forwards and staring intensely at the senior Spectre. "Tell me _everything_."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Sorry for the 1-week delay. I ended up re-writing some of the OC ships a few times, swapping around names, backgrounds and personalities until I got something that sounded good to me. Nonetheless, I think the wait was worth it, since this chapter is where we properly explain some more background *and* get into the more KC-side of this story!

(PS: Since there's nothing like posting a chapter to make one discover all the grammar/spelling mistakes that went unnoticed until that moment, I often end up replacing the chapter text with a refined version ~10 min after first uploading. Does this spam all you guys with 2 upload notices in-a-row? If so, I'll cut it out and leave the small errors in.)

* * *

The mood in the shuttle was somber as the Kodiak settled onto the _Normandy_'s deck. Unsurprising, really. Mallex had already heard most of what Shepard laid out, but as rumors and partial quotes attributed to the 'Crusading Spectre.' Mallex had never been one of those who had thought that Shepard had made up the enemy out of whole cloth, but he had always assumed that there was a certain degree of exaggeration in the human's claims of impending doom.

The devastation of Vancouver was the first hint that he had been wrong. The transition of _Haida_ before Mallex's own eyes had been the second. The third? The calm, matter-of-fact way that Shepard laid out what he had been fighting for almost three years, describing their extermination of the Protheans and also linking them with the Abyssals that had killed almost half of a highly-militarized Humanity?

Spirits above and below, the network would have to put a 'not suitable for all audiences' disclaimer on before they aired any of this.

But they _would_ have to air the footage. To all of the hells with his contract – he's send this to any broadcaster that would publicize it, whatever the network. The Galaxy would have to survive the upcoming war — or War — before they could prosecute him for flagrant violation of a non-compete clause.

"So these 'Reapers' of yours are somebody-else's Abyssals, who stomped them back when multi-cellular life on Earth was a fancy new idea, and have been trashing the galaxy every fifty millennia since?" _Yuri Gagarin_ visibly forced a smile as they filed out of the vehicle. "Well! They haven't had to deal with us, yet!" She thumped a fist against her chest, and paused before turning to nod over her shoulder at Mallex. "And, uh, you guys." Back to Shepard. "Hey, if there's alien Abyssals, have there been any alien Ship-spirits yet?"

The two Spectres in the compartment exchanged a glance. "Not around Earth, at least." Shepard shrugged, the slight movement accentuated by his armor. "Elsewhere? Communications out of the Sol system are still down; the Reapers slagged all the comms buoys between here and Arcturus on their way in, and the Navy hasn't replaced them yet. We'll know soon, though."

"Neat." The exploration ship looked around the hangar, before looking down at her feet and jumping up and down. "Hey, we're in orbit, right?"

"En-route to a fleet rendezvous by the Saturn yards, actually." Answered Shepard.

"So not in a gravity well?" _Gagarin_ bent down and poked at the deck. "Hmm. Not magnetic, and my gyros say we aren't spinning. How'd the eggheads end up cracking artificial gravity?"

"Element Zero."

"That a brand name, or…?"

"An element without intrinsic mass of its own, but capable of increasing or decreasing the mass of other particles around it, depending on electrical input." Answered EDI's head as she stepped out of the bulkhead behind _Gagarin_.

"That…makes no sense." The exploration ship responded instantly, before frowning. She looked around the group in front of her, paused, and turned around. "And who are—" as soon as she saw EDI, the older Spirit took a quick step back "—_What_ are you?"

"I am the Evoked Directable Intelligence, or EDI. I am—"

"Also the ship, yeah. I can, uh, see." _Gagarin_ held one hand up to cover her face, while staring at EDI and moving her head back and forth. Like a fledgling inspecting the doubtfully-edible vegetables that his mother had placed before him. Mallex couldn't hold back a chuff of laughter, and beside him Ashley crossed her arms over her chest with a smile.

But _Gagarin_ wasn't finished. She poked EDI's body and the bulkhead a few times, before shrugging. "Honestly not the strangest thing I've seen today. How'd you get both your steel-hull and your avatar simultaneously?"

Now it was Lawson's turn to speak from behind the group, the elevator doors closing as she walked over. "A great deal of time and expertise." She jabbed fingers at both of the Spectres. "Shepard, Williams, the Council's on the QEC."

Mallex debated asking if he could tag along to record that meeting — or just follow until they told him to leave — but thought better of it. Given the situation, it was likely to be a classified discussion.

Ash nodded. "I wondered when they'd be in touch." As the two Spectres walked off towards the elevator, she called over her shoulder "I'll catch you for dinner later, Mal."

_Gagarin_ looked between Ashley and Mallex, before shrugging and extending her hand out to Lawson. "UNS _Yuri Gagarin_."

"Miranda Lawson, _Normandy_'s XO."

"Oh, good. Then you can probably tell me where…" _Gagarin_ trailed off, glancing down at her stomach and poking it with one finger. "Hold on, I want to test this. Where can I get some FOOD—" the instant she said that word, the Spirit's stomach growled loudly. More of a roar, actually. "Hah! It _did_ work! Anyway, where's the mess around here?"

"EDI can show you." Lawson nodded to the _Normandy_'s avatar. "Be ready for a briefing after you eat, though – when the Council calls, it means they have a mission for Shepard."

The two Spirits walked off, and Mallex hesitated for a second before following them. He'd used his equipment little enough during the mission that it didn't need to be properly checked in the armory — and Ash would enjoy doing that herself, anyways — so he may as well interview the ship's newest passenger while she ate.

* * *

As it turned out, he ended up learning more from EDI than from _Gagarin_. The Cerberus-built stealth craft's avatar seemed downright proud to be able to show off her capital-ship-grade kitchen, specifically designed to handle the food requirements of a large flotilla of ship-Spirits. The ship's lone cook simply expressed his gratitude at how automated the system was. As for _Gagarin_, though, she was too busy packing away more volume of food than an entire company of Hierarchy veterans could after returning from a field exercise.

Happily, while the exploration-ship was too busy shoveling in food to make any sounds other than moans of satisfaction, EDI turned out to be a good interview subject, herself. No known Cerberus members had previously been amenable to a reporter's questions before, after all.

"Spectre Shepard has stated that you and your crew have broken from Cerberus; what drove this schism?"

"It would be more accurate to state that many of my crew have fully renounced Cerberus, while others and myself instead simply recognize that the organization's leadership has strayed from its goals." EDI spoke calmly, leaving Mallex to pray that his microphone filters could isolate her voice from the endless slurping coming from _Gagarin_.

"So you still consider yourself a Cerberus vessel, but not under the authority of the 'Illusive Man?'"

"Correct. Several of his actions over the course of Spectre Shepard's campaign against the Collectors indicated that he had strayed beyond the goals of Cerberus. At the end of that campaign, he made statements indicating that he planned to stray even further from Cerberus's operating directives. Spectre Shepard and much of my crew found this to go against their moral beliefs, and so distanced themselves from Cerberus. Several other members of my crew found that the Illusive Man's actions exceeded his authority as Director and therefore voted to remove him from his position. We have elected an Acting Director, who has specifically stated that all Cerberus operations unrelated to the Reaper War are to cease. I have found their goals to be in-line with my core directives as a warship, and so remain a Cerberus vessel."

"But you accepted a commission into the Alliance navy." Mallex knew better than to directly ask who the new Director of Cerberus was, but he had a hunch. "And if I remember my Human history, not a choice made without precedent."

Thankfully, EDI seemed to understand that he was asking her to explain to his viewers that might not be as familiar with Humanity's history. "Correct. The situation is similar to that which the various warships of the German Kriegsmarine found themselves in during the Abyssal War. Political considerations meant that the government of their homeland wanted little to do with them, but acting-Admiral _Bismarck_ remained determined that her fleet would not be sidelined."

"But they needed logistical support to fight effectively."

"Correct. Which is why negotiations helped by USS _Prinz Eugen_ led to their being commissioned into the US navy, but operating under their own command structure."

An impressive move, from everything that Mallex had read about it. That was like a fleet of Rebellion-era Krogan warships agreeing to join the Hierarchy military, and both sides actually going along with it. While he hadn't heard of any non-Human ship-Spirits yet, only time would tell if the rest of the galaxy's historical grudges could be put aside that easily. "Where they served ably for the remainder of the War, without any disagreements over their loyalty?"

"Several groups which claimed ideological descent from the government that had built the Kriegsmarine vessels attempted to assert authority over them. Admiral _Bismarck_ publically stated that the Kriegsmarine had decided to separate itself from their former political superiors, a statement which her subordinates agreed upon."

Mallex thought that he could see where EDI was going with this. "A similar situation to where you now find yourself."

The avatar nodded, even as _Gagarin_ let out a happy belch and sagged sideways onto the _Normandy_'s Spirit, eyes half-lidded and a sappy grin stretched over the exploration vessel's face. "I admire _Bismarck_'s handling of that situation, and now seek to emulate it. Much as she explained that the Kriegsmarine's goal of serving Germany meant helping the rest of the world as well, so does Cerberus's proper goal of serving Humanity require helping the wider galaxy."

"I think we can all be thankful that you and your crew have kept their best goals in mind."

"The foremost duty of a ship-spirit is to keep a holistic view of what her purpose is." EDI shrugged. "It's what separates us from the Abyssals."

With a smile, she turned her head to look down at where _Gagarin_ had fallen asleep on her shoulder. EDI reached one hand across, and seemed about to pat the other vessel on the head when she froze, hand instead darting up to her ear. After a moment, she nodded. "The Spectres have finished their meeting with the Council, and have called for an immediate meeting in the briefing room. All aboard are to attend."

Just as well that he hadn't gotten food ready yet for Ash and himself, then. He stood and waited politely as EDI woke the taller-but-thinner _Gagarin_. "—rare, no side but extra _mayonez_, ye—" She blinked awake. "Oh. That time, already?"

The exploration ship climbed groggily to her feet and followed EDI as the avatar led them to the briefing room. They arrived before anyone else, and the palpable aura of worry emanating from Ashley's face was enough to draw Mallex over. "Are you all right?"

She sighed, visibly failing to force a smile onto her face. "It's the news we got. Skipper'll explain when everyone gets here, but…how much did you pack in your bag from your Presidium apartment?"

Frowning, he responded "Enough supplies for a few days. We won't have time to stop by the Citadel, then?"

The two Spectres exchanged a glance. "Not anytime soon, no." said Ash. "It's—" The hatch hissed open behind Mallex, bringing a babble of conversation from the arriving crew that died out as they saw the visibly-stressed Spectres. Ashley wordlessly nodded at the seat nearest her around the table, and Mallex sat.

Shepard began without preamble "There have been tow important developments that we just learned, one from the Council, and one from the Alliance." He looked at Ashley. "Less-bad news first?"

With a nod, the junior Spectre continued with "The less-bad news is that the Charon Relay has been disabled. An Alliance cruiser squadron moved in to replace the one lost when the Reapers blitzed through several hours ago, and confirmed that the Relay is not responding to transit or activation signals."

Ah. That would explain why Ash had asked how much he brought with him to Earth – it would be a bit of a long trip to anywhere with dextro supplies, now.

Dr. T'Soni was the first to recover enough to speak. "Like when the Widow Relays were disabled during _Sovereign_'s attack on the Citadel. But that was only done after they took control of—" the Asari's eyes shot wide open.

"The Citadel, yes." Deadpanned Shepard. "Which brings us to the _worse_ news: the Citadel has been taken."

"As in, occupied?" asked Mallex.

"'Taken' as in 'it's not in the Widow Nebula anymore.' The Council was evacuated to the _Glory Dominion_, and whatever the Republics did to overhaul that ship after the last time, it worked. They're still alive, but tracked the Citadel being physically hauled to the nearest Relay by several hundred _Sovereign_-class Reapers. C-SEC reported no husk presence aboard the station at the time of departure, but that is…unlikely to last long."

The room went silent, broken only by a soft chime as Mallex's visor-mounted camera helpfully informed him that a software update was ready to install. To the crew's credit, there were no shouts of dismay or shock. Only silence, until Lawson asked "Do we know how they got to the Citadel so quickly? There should have been some warning from the patrols that they would have had to overrun to reach the Widow system via the Relay network."

"That remains unknown – the Council received no advance warning until Reapers began pouring into the Widow system." Shepard reached up and massaged the tip of his chin and the faint stubble of fur growing there. "I would have guessed that they had a second route to the Widow system besides the Citadel Relay, but that would not explain why they had been moving for the Bahak system earlier."

Lawson nodded along. "And they have not demonstrated any stealth capabilities before, either."

Ashley interjected "But it is possible that they do still have them. _Sovereign_ was the galaxy's only prior experience in fighting a Reaper, and he wasn't exactly going for subtlety by sauntering into the Citadel once Saren had readied it for him."

"A fair point" said Shepard with a faint nod.

A crewman — the pilot Moreau, going by the crutches at his side — exclaimed "So an armada of _stealth Reapers_ just grabbed the Citadel and simply walked off with it." The EDI avatar standing behind him placed one hand on Moreau's shoulder, and he calmed slightly. "Any more good news, Commander? I don't think we've made this fight fair for the Reapers, yet."

"As it happens, there _is_ some actual good news." Announced Ashley. "Part of the reason why the Council was still alive when they contacted us via QEC was that they escaped the Widow system via Relay."

Mallex let out a breath. "So not all the Relays are down."

"Precisely." Ashley continued, flashing a tired smile at Mallex. The long day must be getting to her already. "Which is why we are en-route to the Charon Relay – if the Reapers were unable to shut down the entirety of the Relay network, it is possible that the _Normandy_'s pilfered IFF may allow us to transit via the Charon Relay, if not reactivate it entirely."

"You don't think they canceled our VIP Relay Pass after you trashed their mad-science bug lab, Commander?" said Moreau.

"It's worth a shot." Replied the senior Spectre with a wry grin. Really, the ways that Humans could contort their squishy faces still made Mallex's own facial plates ache. "Furthermore, the Alliance has reported unexpected success with the attempts to re-summon ship-spirits from the last War." Shepard's grin spread into a proper sign of happiness, teeth flashing between parted lips. "In the last War, summoning attempts often went weeks without success. Now, the summoning chamber of Naval Research Base Berkeley had its roof collapse as the overcrowding pushed the walls apart."

"Was anyone hurt?" exclaimed _Gagarin_.

Ashley responded "NavBase Berkeley was decommissioned in the 2090's, and has been kept as a monument to the War ever since. The only humans on-base at the time were a custodial crew, and the only injuries reported were three crushed radar sets, a collapsed funnel, and a dented aircraft elevator."

"In any event," continued Shepard "an Alliance transport will depart to meet us near the Charon Relay, bringing a few more volunteers for our merry band of misfits." He made eye contact with both _Gagarin_ and Mallex in turn, before looking down the table at the gaggle of Alliance crewmen whose names Mallex did not know yet. "They will also take off the remaining yard workers from _Normandy_'s overhaul, as well as anyone else who wishes to remain in the Sol system. This will be the last stop before we possibly transit the Charon Relay, with enemy contact being a near certainty after that."

Mallex caught Shepard's eye, before deliberately and wordlessly reaching over to clasp Ashley on her shoulder. The senior Spectre winked at him with a knowing grin before turning to the older ship-Spirit in the room. "_Gagarin_, you've been back for less than a day and aren't a warship, so—"

"I'm staying. The Doc here hasn't finished teaching me about those Prothean asshats whose shitty base design downed my shuttle." The exploration ship leaned over to one side, patting Dr. T'Soni on one shoulder before freezing and glancing over at where Mallex's hand still rested on Ash's shoulder. Dropping her hand, and with a faint blush on her cheeks, _Gagarin_ continued "And, uh, I reckon you guys have already mapped the Sol system pretty good. I may not be a purpose-built warship, but several of the men who would later become my crew saw combat against Abyssal landing parties during the War. Give me a rifle, and I can handle myself in a person-to-person fight." With a shrug, she finished with "Like the ironclad girls did during the War."

"We're glad to keep you onboard, then." Shepard said. He then waved his hand to indicate the entire audience in the room. "We'll arrive at the Charon Relay in three hours. In the meantime, while normal communications out-System are still down, the Council has agreed to forward any personal messages to family outside of Sol, when sent via QEC. Send any messages you write to EDI, and she'll package them for QEC transmission before we hit Charon." With one last look around the room, he finished with "Dismissed."

Mallex stood, once more thankful for the tall ceilings that this _Normandy_ had inherited from her predecessor's Hierarchy co-designers. Turning to Ashley, he asked "Not too hungry for an early dinner, I hope? I didn't get a chance to try the food myself earlier, but _Gagarin_ certainly enjoyed it, so the levo food should be good."

Ashley followed him out of the room. "She's a ship-spirit. When it comes to food, her definition of 'quality' is 'quantity.' That said, did you check with Gardner how much dextro food we have aboard? I'm sure we could ask that transport from Earth to bring a few months' rations for you, if needed."

"Good idea. Planning on writing a message to your sisters?"

"They're all still on Earth, so there isn't much of a rush. You?"

Mallex shrugged. "Who've I got to write to, that isn't walking to the mess with me right now?"

Ash smiled warmly at him. "Thanks. But really, no co-workers, even? How about what's-his-name, the banner-sergeant?"

"Well…" he scratched at his chin with one talon, a non-Turian habitual gesture that he knew he'd picked up from Ash's grandfather years ago "I think Kamastis has enough to worry about at the moment. He's probably got his recall notice by now — or if he's seen the news, he'll know it's coming — and he's got the family to worry about on top of that. Not sure a sappy letter from an old CO would be welcome, really."

Ash elbowed him sharply in the rib-plates. As she nursed her bruised elbow, she let out a snort of laughter. "Men really _are_ the same all over the galaxy. He's your _friend_, Mal. Since boot camp, you said. Of _course_ you should send him a message; a short one, at least." She wagged one finger at him, but the shit-eating grin on her face took the bite out of the gesture. "Do I need to drag you by your ear to a table and sit you down to write?"

They turned the corner on a passageway, and started walking towards the strengthening aroma of food. Mallex reached over and patted Ashley on the side of her head, careful not to disturb her long-cut fur. "Unlike _some_ people, I don't have a needlessly-vulnerable external ear." He used the dulled back of one talon to flick at the tip of the lump of cartilage that jutted out from the side of his human's head.

Really, her smirk and the spark in her eyes should have warned him. Ash reached up with one hand and grabbed his elbow, pulling Mal down and towards her. With her other hand, she reached up around the back of the turian's head. "Fine. I'll haul you by your fringe, then." With two fingers, she felt for the center-lower spike of plating where it lay against the back of his neck, and nimbly unfolded it.

"Spirits above, woman!" he hissed, quickly glancing up and down the corridor as his pulse skipped a beat. "I just came aboard yesterday – I can't go getting fondled right outside the mess just yet!" That sort of thing was frowned on even in Hierarchy vessels, outside of the bunk rooms.

"Then _write_." Ash grinned and patted the side of his head, as he had hers. "Or I'll do _worse_ to you next time we get enough R&R time."

He fought back the rising hum of his subharmonics, managing to only half-croak "Make it a promise, and I'll listen."

Ash just winked, and turned to walk into the mess hall.

* * *

"Freighter _White Ivy_, docking clearance granted for your shuttle. Our hangar's open, and guide-lines are lit." EDI intoned over the wide-beam laser comms, piping the audio into the _Normandy_'s small hangar where Mallex stood. The food which Gardner hat put together had been quite good — the ingredients, more than the preparation, at least — and the brief down time in Ash & Mallex's cabin had been too short for any real fun, but now they were finally near the Relay.

If he both squinted and dialed the zoom on his visor up to its highest setting, he could just barely tell the blue-white speck of a Relay in the distance apart from the starry background. But what most interested him was the boxy Kodiak transport shuttle coming in on approach to the _Normandy_. He'd gotten a good (if also short) interview with _Yuri Gagarin_, yet as fascinating as that Spirit was, she wasn't one of humanity's legendary Spirits, those veterans of the War.

But when Ash had shown him the list of the volunteers on the shuttle just now settling onto the _Normandy_'s deck, a few of the names were well-known enough that even he recognized them. The two of them had spent more than an hour after dinner poring over the extranet terminal in Ash's quarters, looking up the other names on the list.

But the most surprising part of all, and the reason why Mallex had made _absolutely_ certain that his camera was ready to roll as soon as the Kodiak's hatch opened… "Are you sure that they can be trusted?"

Ashley glanced quickly at him, then back to the shuttle. "The Abyssals? Well, the rest of the ad-hoc flotilla vouched for them. Hackett seemed convinced, else he wouldn't have allowed them to volunteer." She shrugged. "I expect you'll get a better answer out of the ships once they come aboard, properly." With a short laugh, she added "Besides, the old _Normandy_'s crew weren't exactly free of trouble-makers. And you've heard the stories about the crew that Shepard picked up for this _Normandy_ over the last year."

"Fair point." Still, he did feel somewhat under-armed, with only his rifle mag-clamped to the back of his armor. Admittedly, there wasn't much that he could do against a hostile Spirit anyways, but… "Well, Shepard's pulled off the impossible before. Let's hope that streak continues."

The conversation ended as the hatch hissed open, and a pile of humans almost-literally poured out, utterly lacking in the sort of grace that one would expect from centuries-old Spirits. It was like his brief stint as a boot-camp instructor all over again, but he was nominally younger than any of them.

While the gaggle of smaller — and younger-looking — Spirits were slowly standing up from where they had tripped over each other, several taller and older ones left the Kodiak in a much more dignified manner. And almost no two ships looked alike, each wearing uniforms — and "uniforms" — that stood out both for their strangeness and their utter lack of any sort of actual 'uniformity'.

One of the tallest in the group pushed past her fellows and made a bee-line for Shepard. Nearly a head taller than the Spectre, she almost matched Mallex for height. "USS _Lexington_, CV-16. For my sins, I'm the appointed commander of this little squadron." Without turning her head, she gestured to one side.

The other Spirits quickly jostled into a rough line to _Lexington_'s right, in the direction that she'd been pointing. Now that he could see each one properly, Mallex scanned the line, looking for—

There. Three of the Spirits sported the utterly-pale skin, white hair, and faintly-glowing eyes that marked them as Abyssals. But they were spread out in the formation, with one hurriedly whispering to the two next to her who wore what looked like pre-industrial metal body armor.

The ship immediately by to _Lexington_'s side and who gave the impression of an experienced XO barked "USS _Scharnhorst_, battleship." Turning her head, she added "Kampfflotte, report by name!"

The young girl by her side immediately belted out "HMS _Glowworm_, I heard you needed a hand-to-hand expert!"

"HMS _Revenge_, sneakiest battleship around."

"_Tenryuu_, best swordswoman on Earth."

"Or off Earth, nanodesu. Ah, _Inazuma_, destroyer."

"_Ikazuchi_! Not 'Kaminari,' remember!"

"_Akatsuki_, here to watch over my sisters."

"_Hibiki_."

Now it came to the smallest of the three armored Spirits. "USS _Monitor_, because they _named_ the best coastal-support ships after me for a reason!"

"CSS _Virginia_; _someone_ has to keep Cheese-Box here from tipping over. Again." The black-armored one spoke through the face-concealing helmet that she wore, before poking the Abyssal next to her. "And this here is—"

"HMS _THUNDER CHILD!_" a voice entirely too loud for such a small frame reverberated off the room's walls. "Some arrogant chap thought he could waltz all over the Thames, and I put paid to his damned nonsense! Pity he got away. But I heard there were more like him needed a proper thrashing out here!"

The only Spirit wearing an ankle-length dress smiled indulgently. "Let me tell you, finding her in the Abyss was a treat. Tried to ram me full on-the-nose. Didn't go to well, eh redcoat?"

An indignant "Colonial!" was all the response that _Thunder Child_ seemed to deem necessary, and the Spirit continued. "USS _Olympia_, C-6." She rolled her right shoulder as if to work out a kink, and the long rifle slung over that shoulder — she was the only ship visibly armed, now that Mallex noticed — bobbed up and down. "I reckon I've fought most everywhere there is to fight on Earth, so an expedition to parts unknown sounded like an adventure."

At this point, Mallex was prepared for the over-the-top antics of the next ship in line, with the eye-searingly bright orange dress. "_Sendai_ has arrived! Leave the night battles to me – and in space, isn't _every_ battle a night battle!"

"Rather the opposite, I should think, no?" The only man in the formation got an elbow in his ribs for his trouble. "Hah!" He flashed a grin at his compatriot, and continued. "Submarine-cruiser _Surcouf_. For some great forgotten sin which I must have committed in a past life, God has seen fit to make me the leader of our mis-matched submarine force."

The two Abyssals after him grumbled at that, and the first said "Just remember to keep your head down this time, baguette-boy." A playful slap to the back of the head from _Surcouf_ sent her hair spilling down over her face, which she shook clear. "Submarine-cruiser _Beluga_, here to show the French what a _real_ submarine-cruiser looks like."

"They did not build you for a reason, _mon amie_."

"Because you spoiled the plan too quick, and those damned diplomats wrote us into the Treaty."

_Scharnhorst_ cleared her throat, and the two quieted. A quiet which was quickly broken by the last Abyssal. "The Amazing Un-Hearable Submarine _Anglerfish_, _Seawolf_-class, SCP-nine-three-eight fou—" _Surcouf_ shot her a glare, and she danced away from _Beluga_'s elbow-strike. "Containment Procedures: NONE POSSIBL—!"

The last ship to appear had stayed in the background, and now pounced on _Anglerfish, _who yelped in surprise. "She's, like, so cute-ish!"

"How do you keep _doing_ that, poi-boat? Release me!"

But the last ship only hugged the submarine tighter. "Auxiliary sail-power, poi! It's super-quiet!"

"But your bumpy-welded hull sure isn't! It's practically _riveted_! It shouldn't be that quiet!"

_Lexington_ shook her head, visibly hiding a smile behind one raised hand. But when she lowered it, she was all business once more. "_Thank you_ for letting us off that shuttle. I think the freighter's crew — nice folks, all — weren't quite used to ship-Spirit… 'behavior.' At any rate, your Admiral Hackett asked for close-quarters combat and stealth experts. These were the best of those who volunteered."


	5. A very old 'friend'

Author's note: I was going to upload this on Thursday the 5th, but I felt bad for missing my scheduled upload on Thursday the 22nd, so have this one early.

...

Okay, so I also really enjoyed writing this one, and *might* have found it difficult to wait another 4 days before publishing it.

* * *

The _Normandy_ drifted closer to the Relay, heat-sinks cold but warming slowly. From his position against the rear bulkhead of the bridge, Mallex could see nothing beside the grey-white hull of the Relay through his narrow view out of the pilot's armored window.

In his long career, he'd spent little time on the bridges of Hierarchy vessels — well, any ships, really. When he had been a soldier, he was at his station somewhere else in the ship. When he became a reporter, most captains wanted even less of him on the bridge than before. But Shepard had not commented one way or the other when Ash had led Mallex onto the _Normandy_'s expansive bridge.

Of course, Mallex knew that he was no al-Jilani, in any sense — Human 'reporters' were infamous as being almost as bad as Asari news-seekers when it came to aggressive interviews. Any good Turian knew that the purpose of a reporter embedded in a military unit was to document the activities, accomplishments, and failures of that unit. _Document_, not comment on.

"IFF ready to broadcast on your command." EDI's calm voice broke the tense silence.

Shepard only nodded. "Do it."

Judging by how many details that Mallex could see of the Relay's hull ahead of them, the _Normandy_ was far closer than ships normally got to the massive structures before being engaged by the Relay's eezo fields. This Relay _was_ closed to normal traffic, then.

"Broadcasting…now." The entire command deck held their breath as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, EDI added "Response received from Relay. Signal does not match any previously-established pattern for Relay automated communication."

"The IFF is still isolated from receiving any incoming signals, correct?" asked Shepard.

"Correct." Responded the _Normandy_'s avatar via the bridge speakers. "Faraday projector field remains at full power."

"Disable the field, but be ready to re-instate it at short notice." Shepard commanded.

Mallex could see why. Was the unknown signal received from the Relay a verification attempt to check that the IFF was truly that of an operational Reaper? Would allowing the IFF to talk with the Reaper-built Relay expose the _Normandy_ as operating under false pretenses? Only a few months ago, the galaxy had seen exactly what a Relay could do to a star system if destroyed – would the Charon Relay self-destruct if needed to destroy the _Normandy_?

Shepard turned from his display, beckoning Ashley closer. He murmured, "Ash, your thoughts?"

She responded in the same low voice, wise enough not to bring the entire bridge crew in on a conversation that they didn't need to hear. "With the Relay down, we're all bottled up in Sol while the Reapers run loose in the rest of the galaxy. If they 'harvest'" she made a face "everything — every_one_ — else and only then move on to us, we're dead anyways."

"My thoughts exactly, then." Shepard flashed the other Spectre a thin smile of appreciation, and then straightened. "EDI, drop the Faraday field and relay the signal to the IFF."

While EDI acknowledged the order, Mallex watched as Ashley bowed her head, lips moving quickly but silently. The Turian added a few old prayers of his own under his breath. He'd never been much for religion himself, but with Humanity's Spirits now walking among them, perhaps the ancestral Spirits of Palaven _were_ listening a bit closer than normal today.

"New data output from the IFF module."

"A signal to the Relay?" Shepard tensed, synth-muscles in his armor visibly tightening in response.

"Negative, Commander. The IFF module is broadcasting navigational data via Alliance standard encoding, on my local network only."

Shepard muttered "Can it do that?"

EDI's avatar ascended from the floor next to the Spectre. She spoke in a voice as low as his, "Evidently, yes. But this is the first time that the IFF module has sent data over my local network, or used recognizable data formats."

"So it has, what? Adapted to the _Normandy_'s systems? In response to the Relay's signal?"

"Current theories developed by myself and Engineer vas _Normandy_ have noted that the IFF module's internal systems utilize architecture that does not precisely match that of the Reaper cores examined by Cerberus and Citadel agencies. It is postulated that individual Reapers run on differing internal systems, while the IFF modules act as an adapter between them and the Relay network."

"So the IFF is translating for what it thinks is a Reaper that it is installed in?"

"I have ensured that my interface buffers exposed to the IFF use systems architecture derived from both _Sovereign_ and the Mnemosyne derelict."

"Very well." Shepard ceased muttering. "What does this navigational data from the Relay indicate?"

"The Relay states that its Arcturus pair is too close to a gravity well for standard transit."

Mallex frowned. Humanity had been lucky that their home system's Relay led immediately to a hub system in the network, and the Relays in all hub systems were located far out from the core of that system, practically in interstellar space. Had the Relay been moved? If the Reapers could move the Citadel, surely they could shift a Relay.

Shepard pitched his voice to carry forward to the pilot. "Joker, can you narrow the transit-corridor request parameters, as with the Omega Relay? Drop us out a kilometer or two from the paired Relay?"

"Ah, yes Commander. Give me a minute to double-check them for sure."

"Take all the time you need."

Ah. EDI had told Mallex about their trip through the infamous Omega Relay. The trip to near the center of the galaxy, with the normal transit-emergence basket of the Relay only slightly overlapping with the small bubble of survivable flattened gravity carved out of the supermassive black hole's event horizon by the Collector's station. If the _Normandy_ could land within that tiny area safely, then unless the Arcturus Relay had been submerged _inside_ a star or a gas giant, then the trip should be safe after all.

The seconds ticked by quietly as the ship's famous pilot worked at his screens, another EDI avatar physically watching over his shoulder. Mallex knew enough to say that normally such calculations were done by a dedicated navigation officer on most warships, but for all that the _Normandy_'s bridge was clearly modelled on a Hierarchy design, it had barely one-tenth as many crew stations as there should be. Cerberus had designed the ship to run with a skeleton crew, even on the bridge.

Eventually, Moreau called back "Got the new transit request in order, Commander. It's ready to broadcast."

Shepard nodded faintly, as if to himself. But his voice was steady as he ordered "EDI, send the new request via the IFF."

"Sending now, Commander. All hands, brace for high-gee maneuvering."

Mallex looked at the wall behind him — no emergency acceleration harnesses were in sight, so how exactly was he supposed to 'brace'? He exchanged a glance with Ashley, and they both shrugged. They were just standing next to the aft bulkhead of the bridge, as there were no observer's seats there as there would have been on a Hierarchy bridge. Then again, he supposed that the political officer which Cerberus had assigned to the ship was her XO, and had her own duty station elsewhere instead of on the bridge behind the Captain.

Well, if the _Normandy_ needed to pull such a sharp maneuver that her acceleration bled through even her over-sized eezo core's ability to keep local-frame acceleration below lethal levels, they were probably dead anyways. But he would have felt better if Ashley was secur—

A polished silver arm reached across his chest, hand flowing back into the wall to his right. An EDI avatar stood between him and Ashley, holding them tight against the wall in an embrace normally reserved for close friends.

Well, he guessed being _literally_ in the arms of a protective Spirit was safe enough for his Ashley. "Thanks, EDI."

The avatar smiled warmly at him, even as her voice broadcast through the bridge from the overhead speakers. "Confirmation received from Relay. Jump in five…four…three…two…one. Engaged."

The _Normandy_ lurched under-foot, but not dangerously so. At least the up-jump had gone well; hopefully the down-jump at Arcturus would, too.

"Emergence in fifteen seconds." Announced EDI. "Five…four…three…two…one. Emergence."

The stars flashed back into existence ahead of the _Normandy_.

Well, most of them. More than half of the field visible around the pilot's large chair was occluded by—

"Whoah!" shouted Moreau, as the _Normandy_ bucked sharply under Mallex's feet.

"Proximity alert." Announced EDI coolly, her avatar tightening its grip on Mallex and Ashley. "_Sovereign_-class Reaper, two hundred meters distance."

"Yeah, I think I saw him EDI." Snapped the pilot, distractedly. "You reckon he saw us?"

The ship quaked underfoot. "Low-power laser impact, outer port thruster nacelle. No damage."

"That's a 'yes,' then."

The _Normandy_ slowed precipitously, hurling Ash and Mallex forwards against EDI's unmoving embrace. A bright beam flashed in front of the ship's nose.

"And there's the Thanix shot." Added the pilot. "I don't think he likes us. EDI, how long 'till the drive's ready to jump to FTL?"

"Twenty-five seconds, Mr. Moreau."

"Half a minute in kissing range of an angry Reaper?" The _Normandy_ swerved again, and a distant groan of stressed metal reverberated through the hull. "He's getting _real_ handsy with those PD lasers."

For his part, Shepard remained quiet, standing with his hands calmly gripping the railing next to his console. Of course, from what Mallex had heard about the enhancements that Cerberus had added to the man's body when they re-built him, chances were that he may as well be part of the hull thanks to that grip.

"Nearly clear of the touchy guy's eezo field, Commander." Reported the pilot. "Should be only a few seconds."

"As expected, Joker." Came the calm response. For all that he was Human, Shepard's ability to keep cool at a time like this was admirably Turian. No wonder he'd been picked for a Spectre. "Jump as soon as—"

A _bang_ shot through the ship, and she jerked to one side. "Glancing hit from enemy main-armament, barriers down to fourteen percent." Reported EDI. Unusually, her voice took on a worried overtone as she added "Minor breach detected, submarine quarters. Attempting communications with compartment occupants."

Mallex and Ashley shared a worried glance, but then EDI quickly amended with relief "Communications established. No injuries reported."

"And here we go!" called Lieutenant Moreau from further ahead, as the _Normandy_ gathered her strength under Mallex's feet and leapt forwards to FTL. "Chalk up one more to the 'Terrifying galactic monstrosities that we got away from' list."

"Addition confirmed, Lieutenant Moreau." Responded EDI, back to her normal voice. "Beginning dog-leg maneuver. Successful pursuit unlikely."

Around the bridge, people audibly relaxed. Mallex reached up and patted the arm of the EDI avatar who had secured them against the bulkhead. "I think we're good now, EDI."

Nodding, the avatar released the two of them, and then melted into the floor. Mallex doubted that that would _ever_ stop being weird to watch.

Shepard un-clasped his hands from the railing. "EDI, any thoughts on why that Reaper was sitting right on top of the Relay?"

Instead of EDI, it was Joker who responded. "Jerk was holding it closed with his eezo core, Commander. Had his drive field dialed up to 'damn-the-torpedoes-all-ahead-flank,' but he wasn't going anywhere. Just poking a big, deep hole in the local grav field."

EDI added "Which the Relay's automated systems would have read as a hazardous gravity well in close proximity to the emergence zone."

"Clever." Mused Shepard. "But one would think that the Reapers would have had a more elegant way of shutting down Relays."

"Maybe they don't have full access to the Relay control systems in the Citadel, Skipper." Ashley said. "C-SEC and the STG have been tracing as much of the internal controls network of the station as they could find since _Sovereign_'s attack. Maybe they managed to take some of it offline as the station was being attacked, this time."

"And the Relays might not have a local override to keep them shut without a central command?" said the senior Spectre.

"More local functions would just mean more things for younger species to tamper with, each cycle. I'd think that they would want to minimize that."

"Plausible." Agreed Shepard. "But it must take a toll on even a Reaper's drive core to generate such a steep gradient and hold it for any length of time. EDI, any estimate on how long they could manage it?"

"The ability of a Reaper to disperse waste heat is unknown, as is their static-charge capacity. An accurate estimate is difficult to generate."

"Any other Reapers on sensors? Maybe they're operating in shifts."

"No further contacts, Commander. But…" the Spirit's voice trailed off.

"But?"

"Pushing information to your screen, Commander. The drive-core signature of that Reaper is on-record."

"Ah." The Spectre glanced down at his display, before slowly shaking his head. "I wondered when he'd be back."

"Skipper?"

Pitching his voice to carry over the bridge, Shepard responded. "Looks like our old friend _Sovereign_ is back for another beating. Joker, think we can send him off again?"

"Would be risky. His barriers are barely-there thanks to his drive core running near what has to be capacity, but evidently his weapons systems run off a different power supply. And he knows we're around, now."

"Then we take advantage of that. He might not have recognized _this_ version of _Normandy_."

Ashley chuckled. "You're going to taunt _Sovereign_ to death again, skipper?"

"Why not? It worked last time."

"Maybe he learned his lesson, then."

"You heard him talking at Virmire same as I did, Ash. I don't think someone like that _learns_ lessons."

This time, there were low chuckles from around the bridge, and Mallex could feel the tension flowing away. Good use of banter by the Commander, but then Shepard was famous the galaxy over as an improbably-skilled speaker. As the Extranet described him, the man could talk a Matriarch into giving him her first-born child. Of course, from what Mallex had _also_ heard, a certain Matriarch's first-born child had _tried_ to give herself to Shepard, so maybe there was some truth to the story.

"EDI, you can forward messages through one of your FTL probes, yes?" asked Shepard, once the soft laughter died down. "So we don't have to reveal us — you — when talking to _Sovereign_?"

"Correct, Commander. Be advised: my probe stock had been taken ashore during my overhaul, and had not been replaced at the time of our departure from Earth. Only the four probes in their launch cradles are presently available."

"Understood, EDI. Send one over to near the Relay."

"Probe One away, Commander. Non-direct route plotted, ETA forty-five seconds."

Shepard kept his voice loud enough to be heard throughout the large compartment. "If he's holding the Relay closed by himself, then he's stuck sitting there. We rile him up enough and he'll leave the Relay to search after us. EDI, forward a message to Alliance Command via QEC, have them ready to punch a heavy force through the Relay as soon as it opens. Dreadnoughts-first, if possible."

"Message composed and sent, Commander."

Lieutenant Moreau called back from his seat "Shit-talking mecha-Cthulhu into making a mistake, Commander? That's another one for the List."

"I thought you said you had no idea who keeps adding to that thing, Joker." Despite his words, the Spectre finished his statement with a chucjle.

"As long as we're on record I don't, Commander. EDI, you recording this?"

"As required by regulations, Flight Lieutenant." A flat, electronic _beep_ sounded over the speakers. "Recording paused. However, my sensors did not officially observe you updating the Shepard List yesterday morning." The same _beep_ repeated itself. "Recording resumed."

More laughter swept the bridge, even audible in the pilot's voice as he attempted a retort. "You said you weren't peeking!"

"But I was extrapolating, Flight Lieutenant."

Spirits, it was utterly unlike any warship's bridge that Mallex _had_ ever seen. Well, any _real_ such situation — the bridge scenes in _Fleet & Flotilla_ were widely acknowledged to be not even attempting realism. Not that the rest of the show tried too hard on that front, either; back when Mallex had worked as a cameraman for the reporter whose position he now filled, the man had_ never_ stopped complaining about how _F&F_ had used a poorly-edited-in Human actress's face for Sarve'er nar Koleps's helmet-less scenes.

Not that Mallex watched _those_ scenes, of course. Well, not more than once. Err, twice. Just to see what a mess they'd made of the editing, of course. Really, you'd think that the producers could have found _some_ actual Quarian actress willing to put her face in front of the galaxy's cameras. They couldn't _all_ be that shy; no culture was _that_ universal.

EDI's next announcement snapped him out of his thoughts. "Probe arrived. No response from _Sovereign_."

"Put the sensor data on the central display." Shepard clasped his hands behind his back.

The holographic display of the local sector disappeared, replaced with a Relay which basked in the glow of the bridge's lights. Near one end of the gleaming-white construct perched the angular black blemish of the Reaper.

"EDI, ready to goad the bull?"

"Prepared to transmit your next statement, Commander."

"Excellent. Begin recording." Shepard cleared his throat. "It looks like this _Normandy_ has the opportunity to get her own _Sovereign_ kill-marker. And he's so generously sitting still waiting for us."

On the display, the Reaper stayed unmoving. EDI helpfully added a data readout showing the ancient Abyssal's drive-core readouts and heat signature. No change from earlier. But— "Commander, should I relay his response to your personal terminal?"

"Over the all-hands, if you please, EDI. Along with my responses."

"Very well. Message begins:" EDI's comforting tone was replaced by a sepulchral snarl, _dripping_ with arrogance. "So _Harbinger_'s report was accurate. Even his half-rotted serfs were able to put that miserable scow out of her misery."

"And if the Abyss spat you back out, I dare say we'll see SR-1 again. Care to meet her daughter?"

A low chuckle sounded from the speakers, and the plates on the back of Mallex's neck flared. "The doomed soul saddled with _Oromax_'s Interface? She will _scream_ as Our weapons carve her crew from her bosom, as _Harbinger_'s proxies did to her mother. Perhaps you remember?"

Shepard did not so much as flinch. "Can't say it stuck, really. But thank you for coming apart at the Citadel the way you did – every research team in the galaxy worked over your corpse with a fine-toothed comb. We couldn't have come so far since without you. Every warship in the Alliance now bears weapons that may as well be stamped 'courtesy of _Sovereign_.'"

"Children dressing in Father's clothes, imagining themselves his equal."

"We're 1-0 versus you; I wouldn't brag so much in your position. You've been more help than hindrance to our efforts. Perhaps I should offer you an Alliance commission?"

"A Nation, bow to insects? Preposterous." In the holographic display, the insectoid Reaper spun on its axis until a faint red glow became visible to the drone.

Shepard made a 'cut' signal, and ordered "EDI, put the drone through evasive maneuvers between each tight-beam transmission. Wouldn't do to let this clown get any satisfaction too early. Resume transmitting." He turned back to the central display. With the way _Sovereign_ was facing, it looked as if the two figures — the Spectre not even a half-century into his life, and the eons-old war machine — were staring each other down even across the light-minutes.

Shepard returned the mocking lilt to his tone. "You may as well have been working for us all along. The Asari refined their armor designs by ripping your hull apart to get at its structure, the Turians rebuilt your weapons into their Thanix cannons, and the Alliance poked around inside you until they now know exactly where to shoot your kind to peel you open like a can of fish. The Geth learned from their exposure to you and are opening up to the rest of the galaxy, the Salarians developed counter-Indoctrination screening from Saren's research on you, and even Cerberus improved on your psiomaterial core to make EDI. Face it: _you_ have been working for _us_."

"Ascended serve the Cycle, and your destiny is to become Ascended." The Reaper insisted, an undercurrent of fury wheedling its way in among the arrogance. "This conversation is over."

On the holodisplay, a spear of bright light lanced forth from the Reaper…and blazed off into space some distance away from the drone's camera feed.

"Tsk, tsk. Swing and a miss, old man. Should I call for a fleet of Geth to help you again, to even the odds? They seem to have done all the heavy lifting last time, too. Perhaps it is time you retire? We younger species are just better at this than you are, now."

With an ear-splitting roar of inarticulate rage, _Sovereign_ hurled himself away from the Relay, towards the drone.

"EDI, send that message to the Alliance. Joker, jump us towards Anger Management there, but drop us well out of range. He's bitten the hook, now we have to keep him dancing until the Alliance comes to gut him for us."

The field of stars on the display shifted as the drone intensified its evasive maneuvers, lit by periodic strobes from millennia-old laser batteries. Eventually, the display disappeared, replaced by the readings from_ Normandy_'s own sensors. The Reaper whirled on the spot, bearing down on the small frigate and opening fire immediately.

Lieutenant Moreau did not even deign to insult the Reaper as he effortlessly slid the ship around the incoming fire. The two vessels were still much too far apart for effective weapons fire, no matter how advanced their design. And "Commander, response from Admiral Hackett. SSV _Everest_ and SSV _Kilimanjaro_ are en-route, ETA two minutes. SSV _Tirich Mir_ and SSV _Ghent Kangri_ are one minute behind them, followed by CruRon _Verdun_, CruRon _Seattle_, and CruRon _Taipei_. Attached frigate squadrons are remaining in Sol."

Joker put the _Normandy_ through another looping turn, a stream of liquid metal racing through space well astern. "Sounds like the Alliance pulled out all the stops, Commander. Think they'll let me get the final hit in again?"

"You'll have to fight for it, Joker. You can't go claiming the first _and_ second Reaper kills of the War without a struggle." Another missed shot, albeit closer to the _Normandy_. "After all the work you've put in to avoid getting promoted towards a larger ship's helm, it would be a shame to have you snatched away from _Normandy_."

The frigate arced gracefully into another corkscrew, sliding to port while rotating around her main axis. Eons-old targeting computers that had brought about the fall of scores of civilizations scrambled madly in an attempt to follow the evading warship. "You're a Spectre, Commander. They don't have the authority."

"The Council does. The way Reapers keep going after them, they're in need of the best pilots."

"No _thanks_, Commander. Those Asari superdreadnoughts they like riding around in may look nice from the outside, but they're less maneuverable than a fleet fueler with her tanks full to bursting." Another miss. Mallex could swear that he heard a distant scream of fury echo through the vacuum. "They're _deathtraps_."

"Piloted by the most-experienced crews in the galaxy, Joker."

"The most _experienced_, Commander. Not always the _best_."

At this point, Mallex was on to the Spectre's tricks. The man would charge into the teeth of the worst terrors of the galaxy, trading banter with his crew all along the way. Truly a figure out of the ancient legends; a pity he had been born Human. Any family's ancestral Spirits would have been proud to have him wear their mark.

EDI interrupted the flow of the conversation with a hurried "Thirty seconds until reinforcements, Commander."

"Thank you, EDI." Shepard acknowledged, before seamlessly resuming his ribbing of the pilot. With laughter in a steady voice that would not have been out-of-place in a smoke-filled battlefield of ancient Palaven, he continued "Ah, but I remember when we helped pick up _Destiny Ascension_'s escape pods after the battle. That helmswoman — what was her name? — who was quite certain that she was the 'best' and 'most experienced' at _something_. Something that she wished to show her valiant rescuing pilot after the battle, no?"

The next evasive maneuver seemed more violent than the last, enough that Mallex had to lean sharply to one side to avoid toppling over. Perhaps he should ask EDI for her avatar's help again? But no, the only silver-gray avatar visible stood well forward, at Moreau's side with one hand resting on his shoulder.

Joker slung back a retort, with a barbed undertone that would never have been heard on a Hierarchy bridge. "Truly a tragedy that Matriarch Lidanya went down with her ship, Commander. But perhaps lucky for Tali?"

Shepard belted out a hearty laugh, even as a fury-laced shot from _Sovereign_ came close enough — and ahead of _Normandy_, this time, instead of astern — to briefly brighten the bridge with its eye-searing glow. Truly, the man was born in the wrong millennium. A voice, a character like that belonged among the crackle of gunfire, the clash of steel against armor; the roar of battle fought at arm's length, with champions matching one another in spirit as much as in sinew.

Not on the quiet bridge of a warship corkscrewing through the soundless vacuum, surrounded only by the myriad beeping of modern equipment.

"Commander." EDI interrupted. "The Alliance is here."

"On the main display, EDI, if you please. You have a live data-link to them via QEC, yes?"

"Correct, Commander." The main display shifted, the maneuvering image of a furious Reaper being squeezed to one side by the return of the Relay. Two maneuvering specks, each a kilometer-long dreadnought, flashed into view.

"It would appear that our friend _was_ holding the door after all, so to speak. A pity about his temper."

That 'temper' finally found an outlet, as a lance of heated metal raced overhead, seemingly right on top of them. Close enough that the hull rang with a deep roar like that of a passing air-truck, or as if the sheer anger of _Sovereign_ had been flung across the thousands of kilometers instead of molten slurry. "Commander, primary dorsal sensor array disabled. Switching to secondary."

The display tank flickered for several seconds before stabilizing, even as the frigate dove away from the shot. Moreau was unlikely to risk his smart-talking license by letting the ship be hit again.

Two beams of their own reached out from the _Everest_ and _Kilimanjaro_, each as retina-burning bright as the Reaper's fire. Admittedly, the two dreadnoughts had to divert power from their drive cores to squeeze off such shots with their retrofitted Thanix cannons, but for such heavily-armored vessels that was not too great a risk.

Call-out boxes bloomed on the holographic display as lateral laser-fire sprinkled forth from _Sovereign_, burning grooves — but _shallow_ grooves — into the thickened forward plating of the capital ships. The Reaper was finally forced to give up his chase of _Normandy_, turning to bring his main gun to bear on the new threat.

"Joker, I believe that that was your invitation."

"Aye-aye, Commander. Looks like you were right — he _didn't_ learn after all."

The _Normandy_ swung about, sharply enough to press Mallex into the deck, his armor servos whining softly in protest. He could look past the holo-display, out the pilot's window as the starless patch expanded and solidified into the Reaper once more. The ancient Abyssal's barriers glinted as the Alliance's first salvo struck them, splashes of liquid iron glinting like meteors as they ricocheted off of the energy screen.

The _failing_ energy screen. A second salvo slammed home as Alliance engineers and the very Spirits of their warships poured every last erg of power into their spinal capacitors.

With a flash, _Sovereign_'s barriers fell. "At your call, Joker. Fire when ready." Shepard pronounced his old foe's death sentence with the air of a man bored with a party that had quickly lost its charm.

"Taste of his own medicine coming right up, Commander. Firing in three…tw—whoah!" The _Normandy_ jerked to one side, the looming Reaper disappearing from the forward window. "Radiation spike! New con— _two_ new contacts!"

"On screen! Enemy reinforcements?"

EDI spoke for the pilot. "Small projectiles, Commander." She paused, as if in surprise. "They came from…me?" Mallex didn't think he'd heard the self-confident Spirit speak with such doubt in her voice before. "They are on-track for the Reaper, and they are radioactive."

Mallex blinked, bewildered. Alliance frigates used no nuclear weapons that he knew of, and certainly EDI would have known about any that he did not. He looked to one side, to find Ashley with a slowly-growing grin on her face. He glanced back to Shepard, in time to hear the senior Spectre let loose with another laugh. "EDI, open an internal broadcast to your submarine quarters, if you please. Broad radio spectrum, I should think."

Over the speakers came a voice that Mallex only belatedly recognized, from earlier. "—get for poking a fucking hole in my fucking room, you fucking fuck! Suck on fucking Tomanukes, asshole!" _Anglerfish_ was _not_ a happy SSN right now.

Shepard gestured for EDI to cut the channel. "Joker, I think your second kill-marker is in jeopardy!"

"Wait, wh—? Seriously?" Joker's voice was incredulous, as the _Normandy_ yawed back on-target. "Abyssals offing each other just to steal my credit!?" The frigate shuddered as her own Thanix cannon roared her fury at the Reaper whose henchmen had murdered her mother.

The searing-hot metal beam struck home at the same moment as twin suns erupted on _Sovereign_'s flank, his hull dancing with shadows as it buckled and flexed. A heartbeat later, and the suns were gone.

In their place, a wounded Reaper.

An _angry_ wounded Reaper.

A bowel-loosening _bellow_ of pure rage echoed through the bridge and dug into Mallex's ears, far too loud to be coming from the overhead speakers. "**CHILDREN. CHILDREN PLAYING AT WAR ON A LEVEL BEYOND ANY WHICH THEIR _PATHETIC_ SPECIES HAS YET ENVISIONED.**" A long-obsolete instinct in Mallex's hindbrain squealed in abject terror, an instinct from the time when even Turians had predators to fear on the sun-blasted plains of ancient Palaven. "**THIS ENDS. NOW.**"

From deep amidst the cracked hull plating of the ancient abomination spat another withering shot, racing towards the _Everest_ as she struggled to move out of the way. Then another.

And another.

EDI spoke rapidly. "Commander, _Sovereign_'s drive core is destabilizing rapidly. He is burning out his systems, overcharging his weapons." Another strobe of weapons-fire from the stricken Reaper, accompanied by another furious bellow that transcended the intervening vacuum to pound at Mallex's ears as the cannon-fire licked at the dreadnoughts' flickering barriers.

"Then let him rage. Rage and _burn_."

'_As long as he is the _only_ one_' whispered Mallex under his breath.

But the Alliance did not plan on losing any of their prized dreadnoughts today. Two more flashes by the Relay heralded the arrival of _Tirich Mir_ and _Ghent Kangri_. The two newer capital ships pivoted rapidly before accelerating towards their older sisters.

Passing in front of them. _Ghent Kangri_ slid in front of _Everest_ just after the older dreadnought's barrier fell under a second solid hit. _Ghent Kangri_ took a third blow aimed for her sister solidly on the chin, but her fresh barriers only pulsed indignantly.

As one, four gleaming-white dreadnoughts spat fury at one dull-black counterpart. Explosions cascaded over _Sovereign_'s hull, but who could say which was caused by Alliance weapons-fire and which by the byproducts of the irate Reaper's own self-inflicted doom?

"Oh no they don't!" called Joker, pushing the _Normandy_ close enough to her ailing enemy that Mallex sent a prayer for the Alliance gunners to watch their aim. He'd faced Alliance guns once before, and he hoped they'd improved in the decades since.

Another — quieter — roar of anger, this one from inside the _Normandy_ preceded the emergence of two more radioactive blips on the holographic display. Half-expecting it this time, Mallex caught the flash of motion past the pilot's station as two more nuclear-tipped 20th-century missiles — their brief launch-rocket burns over; their air-breathing jet engines useless in the vacuum — drifted ahead of the speeding frigate.

With a wordless growl of his own frustration, Lieutenant Mor— _Joker_ let fly with one last shot from _Normandy_'s own Thanix.

Once more, Mallex's eyes shut involuntarily as _Sovereign_ was bathed in atomic fire even as relativistic liquid metal ran him through like St. George's lance spearing the dragon.

Despite himself, Mallex frowned as his mind played with the ancient fable told to him by Ashley. Would that make _Everest_ the princess?

He recovered in time to watch the after-glow of the detonations fade. By now, there was enough cut-away debris floating around _Sovereign_ that the millisecond-long flash of a normal nuclear detonation in vacuum lasted for nearly a second. A new constellation of white-hot debris stayed behind, an eye's after-image wrought in reality.

And this time, _Sovereign_ roared no more.

Shepard crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself. After a moment, he spoke. "Good kill, Joker. If _Anglerfish_ asks, I'm awarding it to you."

"I think we can share, Commander — as long as _she_'s the one to go EVA to paint half-a-Reaper on _Normandy_'s nose."

For all that his only contribution to the battle had been that of an alert observer, Mallex felt the familiar drain of energy leaking out of his body. The drain well-known to all soldiers, especially those who had stared Death in the eye, and seen that most ancient of Spirits _blink_.

The senior Spectre did not seem entirely immune to that tiredness, as he visibly slumped at his station. "EDI, forward our thanks to Hackett, as well as BatRon 5.1 and 5.2. This was their victory as well as ours."

Mallex nodded along. The Fifth Fleet's four dreadnoughts — two at that time — had not been present two years ago, when their smaller cruiser colleagues had charged in to engage _Sovereign_ point-blank, in those early days when the 'Geth Dreadnought' had blitzed his way to the Citadel.

Nor had they been there when those brave cruisers had paid the price for their gallantry, cut apart by _Sovereign_'s weapons and those of his Geth pawns. When their life-pods had been speared by point-defense laser fire barely after the moment of launch. The Council may have died on _Destiny Ascension_ despite the Alliance intervention, but how many more of the super-dreadnought's crew would have perished if not for that sacrifice?

Having spoken to EDI and _Gagarin_, Mallex held no doubt that the Spirits of _Everest_ and _Kilimanjaro_, especially, were bathing in as much satisfaction as were any aboard the _Normandy_. _Tirich Mir_ and _Ghent Kangri_ may be newer additions — to bolster the depleted Fifth — but such great Spirits as Humanity had birthed were doubtlessly just as proud to avenge the transgressions inflicted on their Fleet.

For the first time since watching shadows descend over Vancouver, Mallex did not have to push the thoughts of the Reaper War from his mind in order to banish stress. Humanity had proven their ability to fight back; Mallex felt nothing but anticipation of seeing what feats the elder Citadel species would wreak to match their younger peers.

The Reapers had made a _mistake_, angering this Cycle as they had.


	6. Davey

The rest of the Alliance's Fifth Fleet arrived to secure the system – strangely, it seemed that _Sovereign_ truly had been alone in the area. Whatever the reason for that was, it meant that _Normandy_ could have her (light) battle-damage repaired even while the Reaper's hull fragments were still hot. The frigate floated contentedly alongside the repair ship SSV _Jiangnan_, a swarm of technicians in vac-suits working over her newest scars.

To Mallex, the whole scene brought to mind a doting mother fussing over the scrapes & bent plates of a child home on leave after their first half-year of Basic. A comfortingly domestic scene that he watched in the near-empty bridge's holotank, while idly listening to the background murmur of Ashley talking to the pilot.

And then it was not-so-background. "Mal?"

"Hmm?" He turned his head as Ash nudged his side, to see her smirking up at him.

"You've got that goofy smile on, again."

"I do?" He raised one hand to his face, finding that his mandibles _were_ splayed out wide. He tried pulling them back in to a polite neutrality, to no avail. Holding them in with his hand found no success, either – the blasted things jumped back to their atavistic display of joy as soon as he let go. "I suppose I do."

"So the veteran ground-pounder has discovered the joys of naval combat. When your ship pulls through the fight, thanks to her crew. And you know she loves you all for it."

Mallex thought back to the EDI avatars both during the engagement with _Sovereign_ and immediately afterwards. "All of us, yes, but especially her pilot, if I'm not mistaken."

Ash laughed. "Apparently that's just EDI and Joker. Normally a ship's closest to her Captain or Admiral, but scuttlebutt says that Joker 'won over EDI's top loyalty from Cerberus' during the Collector campaign and has held it since."

"I wonder how he managed that."

Mallex's fiancé waggled her eyebrows at him. "I've heard a few rumors. Want me to show you? We've barely used our quarters since we came onboard."

From off to Mallex's right, he heard the pilot call "I can hear you two, you know. And for the record, it was just a good heart-to-heart conversation, EDI and I. _With clothes on_."

From the overhead speakers, the Spirit herself joined the conversation "From a technical standpoint, my Avatar does not _wear_ clothes, Flight Lieutenant."

Joker groaned, while Mallex and Ash broke out into laughter. Eventually, the Spectre managed "Keep teasing him, EDI. I've got fifty credits riding on you two."

Mallex had never been too sharp with words, but he dug deep into his understanding of English and its many double-entendres to add "Riding on you two, uh, 'riding.'"

Ashley actually broke out into a coughing fit interspersed with laughter, and Mallex thought he even heard a surprised snort from behind Joker's tall-backed chair. "Great, another Turian's learned to make smart-ass remarks. First Garrus, now you; we're corrupting the Hierarchy from the bottom-up." With the superior directional hearing that Palaven had given his ancestors and which even Ashley often forgot about, Mallex heard the pilot add under his breath "Actually pretty funny, though."

"All right, you." Ashley pulled Mallex back towards the elevator, out of the bridge. "Joker has the bridge for the next shift, which means we're both off-duty for the next eight hours. I want to see what else your 'smart-ass' mouth can do."

Mallex's mandibles _ached_ as they tried to express a smile wider than his shoulders, as the shorter human dragged him out of the compartment. Just before the hatch closed behind them, he heard Joker get the last word in, "Remember what Mordin said about chafing!"

Seven refreshing — if not necessarily all _restful_ — hours later, and the two left their cabin and made for the mess hall. As tired as Mallex's jaw was, he still felt like he could out-eat _Gagarin_ right now. But just as they approached the mess hall hatch, it slid open, and out came that same Spirit, pushing a large wheeled cart stacked high with Alliance ration boxes.

And with Hierarchy ration boxes.

As the sole dextro aboard, Mallex was curious. He'd seen just how much Turian-safe food had been taken aboard before they transited the Relay, so he knew that the Spirit was hauling only a small portion of that. Those foods shouldn't be safe for a normal Human, but perhaps a Spirit? "If you're experimenting, I'd recommend the salted _vakar_ strips, in the lime-green tins. It might be a bit tough for Human teeth, though."

"Ah, what?" _Gagarin_ stuck her head out to the side so that she could look at him around the tall pile of foodstuffs. "Oh, right. You must not have heard — they're trying for a Summoning while _Normandy_'s getting her damage patched. They hauled in a bit of one of _Sovereign_'s legs, so between that and this," she patted the stack of boxes "Commander Shepard figures we should be all set."

Ashley frowned. "But why use Turian ratio—oh."

Mallex didn't follow. "Explain for the guy who didn't grow up learning about how all this works?"

"Well, there are several ways to affect which ship-spirit is summoned when a Pool is stocked and the band begins to play. Either by location — Pools near shipyards or battle-sites tend to draw in ships who were built or fought there — or by the exact nature of the materials stacked into the Pool."

"Or by who sunk nearby, recently." Added _Gagarin_. "Like when _Arizona _went down outside Sasebo early in the War, and _Hiryu_ showed up the next day in their Pool. Ships that famously fought or killed each other are linked."

Ashley nodded. "So we've got a fragment of _Sovereign_, and a mixed-bag of Alliance and Hierarchy rations going up to the Pool..." She looked at Mallex expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

Ah, now he understood. "_Normandy_. The first one."

"That's the hope." His Human shrugged. "Not a guarantee that she'll show up, but a good chance for it. Looks like breakfast can wait."

Mallex nodded. This he would _have_ to see. People the galaxy over had long wondered — those who did not immediately dismiss the notion — just how one of the Spirit-summoning rituals as described by Humanity worked. More words than could be read in a lifetime had been written comparing those events to traditional ceremonies from the various Citadel civilizations. The task was not made any easier by the fact that no two Human cultures at the time of their War ran their summonings the same way, and there were a _lot_ of Human cultures even today.

So Mallex was interested not only in watching a summoning ritual in person, but also seeing exactly which Human traditions the Alliance chose to use. Or maybe the choice was up to Shepard…but he had not been raised on Earth. The Turian wracked his mind as Ashley led him along corridors and elevators, trying to remember what the dominant cultural group was among Mindoir's settlers.

It hadn't hit him by the time that he and Ashley followed _Gagarin_ and her cart into the pool room. As a result, he blindly continued following the mobile pile of food cartons for several seconds before noticing that Ashley had walked off to the side instead. He shook his head to clear his mind and followed her. He'd get to see the ceremony soon enough either way.

As he could have expected if he'd been thinking about it, Ashley was walking over to the raised repair-pool, and the red-haired Spirit who was watching the whole event attentively. _Haida_ looked up as Ash approached, and waved to her with a smile. Her blue-gray swimsuit hid the recent scars which he knew marred her flank, but did nothing to disguise the expanse of recently-regrown pink flesh that covered most of the destroyer's face. As much as Mallex's heart ached to see one so young saddled with such injuries, it _was_ quite fascinating to try to link the damages sustained by _Haida_'s steel-hull to the wounds visible on the young woman's Human form.

"Hiya Ashley! Or should I say 'Spectre?'" _Haida_ pointed one finger upwards towards the ceiling. "EDI's been filling me in on what I missed." As Ashley approached close enough to hold one hand out for a handshake, the Spirit instead pulled herself half-out of the repair pool, and wrapped both arms around Ash's middle in a tight hug. "You're pretty solid for a ghost."

Ashley just smiled and patted _Haida_'s flowing red fur where it spilled over the sides of her head. When the Spectre didn't respond, Mallex spoke instead. "And you look almost back-to-normal for a shot-up ship, 'Helen.'" He may not have been an engineer, but the level of damage which the destroyer had taken less than two days ago certainly _looked_ like it would have required more time to repair.

Although he hadn't meant it that way, _Haida_ flinched at his words. "'m sorry about that. I'd begged and begged Davey for _years_ before he let me even walk around my own deck, and he said I still couldn't tell anyone who I was."

Mallex blinked in confusion. "'Davey?'"

Ash answered for the destroyer, who was still fastened around her midriff. "The personification of the Abyss."

"It has a _name!?_" Mallex's research on ship-Spirits had always focused on the ships themselves; he hadn't delved too far — or too deep — into the aspects of their existence that made even _less_ sense than talking ship-women.

"Several names." Ashley patted _Haida_'s head again. "But only the ships have ever talked to it. Him. Whatever." She shrugged. "We've tried communicating from the outside — the real world — but got nowhere."

"He's kinda rude, actually." Added the destroyer, finally letting go of Ash and sitting back in her pool. "And clingy. Doesn't want us to leave his Abyss, always tries to talk us into staying. I don't think he likes anyone who isn't a ship-spirit."

"Huh." Mallex mulled this over, making sure that his camera was recording. The background noise of the crew setting up the Summoning hadn't gotten any louder, so he probably had time to ask more questions. "What does he look like?"

"Depends on who you ask." Added a voice from Mallex's right. _Scharnhorst_.

"Horsey!" _Haida_ exclaimed, holding her arms out for a hug that the battleship accepted with a smile. "I heard you were on-board, but you didn't visit!"

"Because you needed your rest, _Haida_. I didn't want to distract you." _Scharnhorst_ turned back to Mallex. "But as you were asking, Davey wears different bodies and answers to different names, depending on which ship is talking to him. Most of the Americans and British see 'Davey Jones,' cousin _Bismarck_ — and the _Iowa_ sisters, of all people — saw her last Admiral from her first life, and _Aurora_ swore that he saw Grigori Rasputin."

"But 'Davey' is the easiest name to say, so we stuck with that." _Haida_ smirked. "Although if we want to piss him off, we shorten his name to something like 'Dave' or 'Greg.'"

"And why would you want to 'piss off' this commanding Spirit?" A very Human thing to do, but Mallex assumed that there was a reason besides 'for fun.'

"Well, when he's angry at one ship, Davey isn't paying as close attention to the others. So they can sneak back out of the Abyss before he notices. The Abyssals were the first ones to figure that out, and the rest of us followed them out soon after." _Haida_ pouted. "But as the War dragged on and we spent less and less time in the Abyss, he started getting _really_ mad. Then one time while I was cooling my heels and chatting with _Hiei_ about how I tackled that one torpedo like a secret-service bodyguard, she told me that _Kongo_ had two little mini-teitokus on her slipways, so-to-speak. That _really_ made Davey angry, and he started threatening all sorts of things at us if we kept sneaking out of the Abyss."

_Scharnhorst_ nodded along. "I remember. Every ship on Earth at the time suddenly heard him screaming in their head, promising the most awful things if we didn't go back to the Abyss immediately."

"You can do that?" from what Mallex had read in the publicly-available records, the War had ended when human seer-engineers had developed a device that could send ships to fight in the Abyss instead of on the seas and shores of Earth. This was…different.

"At a few places around Earth, the sites of the bloodiest naval battles." _Scharnhorst_ grimaced. "Ironbottom Sound, the coast of Jutland, Cape Trafalgar, places like them. If one goes there and consciously dismisses your steel-hull, you can go a bit further and dismiss your Avatar as well." The forty-thousand-ton battleship shuddered. "It's…uncomfortable, but Davey's threats were _very_ clear."

Apparently, this was news to Ashley as well. "So the Krell Device?"

_Haida_ giggled. "Was made up! Everybody — ships and those Admirals whom they trusted — agreed that telling the public that 'Hey, some metaphysical jerk told us that he'd kill you all and us too if we didn't go back to the Abyss _right now_, and we're pretty sure it isn't an empty threat' wouldn't help anything, so the Admirals put their heads together and created the story of a super-extra-top-secret DARPA project and a 'decisive battle' in the Abyss."

"It wasn't all bad." _Scharnhorst _said. "Davey wasn't only making threats at _us_, you see. I don't know how he did it, but he also got the Abyssals to leave Earth at the same time, so we did our job either way." She waved her hand to take in the _Normandy_ around them. "Humanity survived and prospered peacefully—" she glanced sideways at Mallex with a smirk "— _mostly_ peacefully, without us."

Mallex frowned, thinking on some of the other details which he could remember about Humanity immediately after their War. "But not all of you disappeared at once. _Kongo_ stayed behind for years." And made the most of her time – over a dozen humans today traced their ancestry back to that single ship.

_Haida_ beamed at him. "That's the best part – we covered for her! HMS _Tiger_ would dress up as _Kongo_ whenever Davey would check in on the Kongo sisters, and he never noticed for the whole eight years until she joined us!" the two Spirits shared a laugh.

Mallex wondered what his old training-regiment chaplain would have thought of the notion that one could fool Spirits by playing dress-up. The old man would probably have cracked a plate out of sheer apoplexy. But right now, a glance around the pool room told Mallex that he had time for perhaps only one more question and answer before the main event started. "So how _did_ you 'come back' enough to be a tour guide for your own hull?"

"I nagged the _crap_ out of him!" _Haida_ descended into a fit of giggles, leaving _Scharnhorst_ to explain.

"She kept repeating 'Davey please' for _years_. Around the clock."

"Fifty-seven years, ten months, four days, three—"

"She burned out her radio transmitter after a month, but got enough other ships to loan her their sets to keep going. About three years ago, Davey finally gave up and let her through with conditions, but I think he was a bit distracted with something else, then."

Mallex and Ashley exchanged a meaningful glance. "That was around when _Sovereign_ attacked the Citadel."

The two Spirits looked at each other, worry wiping the smiles from their faces. "Do you think he did that because of me?" _Haida_ asked.

"I don't think so." Reassured Ashley. "_Sovereign_ really liked to monologue at Shepard and us, but he never mentioned any of you. We only figured out that the Reapers were Abyssals at all when examining the wreckage after the battle."

An EDI avatar appeared at Ashley's left, interrupting the conversation. "The Summoning is about to begin."

The group turned, Mallex and Ashley walking up to the edge of the recessed shallow pool. The ration boxes that _Gagarin_ had hauled up were set atop temporary tables half-submerged in the water. Atop a much-stronger-looking metal platform lay two massive chunks of hull plating. One was coal-black and wrapped in a mesh of small metal wires connected to an external machine whose lights blinked a comforting green as the emitters counteracted the faint signal of Indoctrination still emanating from the fragment of _Sovereign_. The other shard of plating was much smaller, but bore the _Normandy_ SR-1's hull color.

Mallex looked around at the people gathered in chamber, making sure that his camera got a good shot of Shepard's and EDI's faces, from where they stood side-by-side in hushed conversation. That fragment of the SR-1's hull was not only a part of EDI's 'mother,' as Mallex understood the social constructions of Human ship-Spirits, but also represented Shepard's death. The Turian hadn't gotten the story quite straight yet — he'd have to corner XO Lawson at some point — but from what he'd heard the Spectre _had_ actually died. Not a cover-up for a deep under-cover operation for either the Alliance or the Council, as so many people had assumed upon Shepard's miraculous return two years later.

_Dead_ dead. And yet there the man stood, if admittedly with a set of scars that would make any Krogan go weak at the knees. Mallex smiled ruefully to himself. It truly boggled the mind that Cerberus had not chosen to parlay their accomplishment of _curing death_ into more political acknowledgement rather than continuing to skulk around the Terminus Systems. No wonder _Normandy_ and her crew had broken with the organization's leadership.

Just then, Shepard raised his hands for silence, quieting the room. "I believe that we are now ready to begin. But first, our special last-minute guest." He gestured towards the hatch leading to the corridor outside.

And towards the Human man who had just walked through it. "I wouldn't miss this, Shepard, and you know it. Not for all the steel in the Pacific." Councilor Anderson smiled back at the Spectre. Not the tacked-on false smile that was the mark of politicians the galaxy over, but a warm smile that reached across the man's weathered face. "She was my old girl too, if not for as long."

Ah, yes. Mallex had covered that back when it had first happened – how the first Human Spectre had not only retained his commission in the Alliance, but had been _promoted_ to command that nation's newest — and for her size, most expensive — warship. While some other Spectres were still nominally members of various militaries or other such organizations, absolutely none before Shepard had held a _command_ position while also serving as a Spectre.

The sort of confusion that that must have introduced for the Alliance made Mallex's head hurt. Was such a Spectre still limited by the Laws of War of the Alliance? Was he accumulating time-in-grade as a Commander? If his subordinates wished to register a complaint about his command practices, would they contact the Alliance brass or the Council directly? Was the Alliance accepting responsibility for acts (both good and bad) carried out under Spectre authority? Could senior Alliance officers issue orders to a Spectre who still held a junior place in their command chain? Could they demand that the _Normandy_ be tasked to missions that Shepard would not have undertaken as part of his Spectre duties?

Mallex suspected that the situation was just an artifact of that the Alliance not only had never had a Spectre promoted from within their ranks before, but had been associated with Citadel society for less than thirty years. They likely had little idea as to the sort of mess that they had set themselves up for. As to the Council, while Mallex _could_ assume that they were being generous to such a young species, he suspected that their tolerance had more to do with not wanting to attract any more public attention to the Saren 'incident.' The ponderous wheels of Council bureaucracy had almost certainly been set in motion to renegotiate Shepard's unusual Spectre-hood when the man's sudden death at the hands of 'an unknown party' had rendered the whole thing moot.

That said, the Alliance had likely gotten a few hints as to how to handle 'their' Spectres, given how Ashley had told Mallex how she was on 'furlough' from her Alliance commission. And Mallex couldn't complain too much that the Alliance hadn't given their second Spectre a warship of her own, as her tagging along with Shepard meant that Mallex had such unfettered access to the _Normandy_.

He eyed the waist-deep water in the summoning pool. Maybe both _Normandies_, soon enough.

The Human Councilor shook hands with Shepard. "I hope that the Summoning goes smoothly and quickly – I would rather not leave Udina minding the shop for me too long."

Shepard snorted, but with a smile of his own. "I would have thought that the last few years of the press slinging mud at my name would have made him a happy man."

"Perhaps it would have, but his name was in the splash zone." The two shared a laugh. "But don't let this old man delay the summoning. I think we are both eager to meet the old girl."

The 'old girl' whose service career stretched all the way from early 2183 to late 2183, thus making her more than an order of magnitude younger than Anderson or Shepard. But Mallex was familiar enough with the often-charming idiosyncrasies of the English language by now; he even managed to resist snarking about it to Ashley.

Although perhaps she had been able to almost follow his thoughts nonetheless. "Looking forwards to getting the galaxy's first interview of old _Normandy_, Mal?"

"For personal reasons, mostly."

"Oh?"

"If the front-running idea in the crew's betting pool is correct, the elder _Normandy_ would be able to give me some tips on how to live as a Turian in Human culture." Mallex winked at Ash. "For our retirement on Earth after the War."

She smirked back up at him. "And what makes you so sure that I wouldn't be more interested in living on a Turian planet? Ignoring the food, that should mean more neighbors there that I could talk shop about guns with."

He gently poked the exposed skin of her left arm. "Turians tend to settle on nice, warm planets that bask in the comforting rays of their star. And I've seen what happens to you when you spend too long in the sun even somewhere as dimly-lit as Earth."

The thunderous music which erupted forth from the compartment's overhead speakers jolted the two out of their conversation. The water in the summoning pool had risen, and from glancing at the other side of the pool Mallex now estimated that it would be almost chest-high on him. That would mean nearly up to the neck of an average-height Human.

Nudging Ash more to get her attention than to emphasize a joke, he asked "If the first _Normandy_ was built to a Turian design, is that much water necessary? We don't exactly have a long maritime tradition."

"I suspect that the skipper figured a stealth ship…" Ashley lowered her voice as Shepard began speaking, presumably reciting a prepared speech if one judged by how smoothly the Spectre delivered such elegant praises of the various actions which the _Normandy_ had taken part in. But then again, it was Shepard; the man just might be good enough to say something like that off the top of his head. "…like _Normandy_ is close enough to a wet-navy submarine that she might want enough water in to submerge."

"Would that work?" Mallex asked, as Shepard continued in the background.

"Summoning isn't exactly a precise science. You just have to get 'close enough' to what motivates the Spirit you're trying to reach, and hope that she hears you. But we've got enough artifacts related to _Normandy_ already in the pool; I'm not sure what else we could add."

As Shepard finished his speech, the whole compartment held their breath. For a while, there was only the bombastic notes of the Alliance Naval Anthem to fill the room. Mallex leaned forwards, peering into the rippling surface of the water. Nothing.

Shepard and Anderson exchanged a glance, before the Spectre spoke. "Maybe she's waiting for her first Captain."

"Hopefully not her first Admiral – I would hate to hear what Mikhailovich would say if I dragged him out here for _Normandy_'s sake." Anderson took Shepard's place, standing at the head of the shallow stairs which led down into the pool. The music shifted to playing the Alliance Marine Hymn as the Councilor visibly collected his thoughts.

For his part, Mallex was taking stock of the various items in the summoning pool, and comparing them to what he knew of the first _Normandy_. The fragment of her hull was obviously a strong connection, and the bit of _Sovereign_'s hulk could certainly remind the Spirit of one of her most-famous accomplishment. The martial anthems booming down from above would stir the blood — or the coolant? — of any patriotic Spirit. Her first two commanders were heaping praise on her, and enough rations of each chirality sat in the pool to put _Gagarin_ into a food coma.

But something felt missing. A glance around the room showed Mallex a sea of faces, all anxiously watching the pool.

A sea of _Human_ faces, save for one single Asari and Mallex's own. And while the Alliance's first stealth ship was famous for her daring feats of arms — from foiling Geth to delivering the _coup-de-grâce_ to a shockingly-powerful enemy who had defiled the very center of Citadel space — Mallex knew from his close knowledge of and experience with the sphere of public opinion that the _Normandy_ was perhaps even more widely admired for her crew.

Not just for her Alliance crew, but for being a home to peoples from across Citadel space…many of whom had reason to distrust or outright dislike one another. At the time, Mallex had outright _laughed_ each time a co-worker of his at the network would relay the latest addition to Shepard's team. A Krogan Battlemaster, a Quarian admiral's daughter, a Turian detective and the daughter of one of the most powerful Matriarchs in the galaxy had no business being on one ship together as anything other than the setup to a joke.

Yet it had worked, no matter how many Citadel pundits claimed that the newly-minted Spectre was blatantly assembling a diverse 'team' more for propaganda purposes than for actual prowess, or how many Terra Firma talking-heads criticized Shepard's growing 'menagerie.'

Yet in this room right now, only three Citadel species were present. Would _Normandy_ only hear a summons that came from a group which mimicked the broad spectrum of her own crew?

Mallex considered himself far from the stereotypical straight-backed, rules-bound Hierarchy poster-boy, but normally even he would not interrupt a Councilor about to give a speech. Not even with how Anderson still stood silent, brow furrowed in thought. But Mallex knew that he was arguably the only outsider now in the room – everyone else in attendance knew _Normandy_ as a member of her crew, not as an outsider. Could they have overlooked something that only Mallex noticed?

He made his choice. "Sir? Ah, Councilor?"

To his credit, Anderson allowed only the briefest flicker of irritation to cross his face as he turned to Mallex. If the Turian hadn't been so familiar with Humans, he wouldn't have noticed it. "You have a question, son?"

Human or not, Anderson's gravelly voice sent Mallex back to the weeks on end of young Recruit Caveran being chewed out for one infraction or another on a Cipritine drill-yard. He reflexively straightened his spine and dropped his hands into parade-rest. "Yes, sir. Given the multi-species nature of _Normandy_'s crew during most of her service career, is it not possible that she would require some tangible reminder of her connections not only to the Alliance and the Hierarchy, but the Republics and the Migrant Fleet as well?"

Mallex held his breath, awaiting a response. After several quiet seconds — and many more worried heartbeats — the Councilor spoke. But softly, as if to himself "Or of being more of a warship of the Council than of the Alliance directly." Anderson's eyes narrowed, and he nodded at Mallex. "An excellent suggestion, thank you."

As one of the four most-powerful people in the galaxy turned away from him, the Turian let out his breath. Ashley wrapped one hand around his waist and pulled him into a wordless side-hug.

After a whispered conversation with EDI, Anderson returned to face the pool. "Frigate _Normandy_, savior of the Citadel and of the greater galaxy, your Alliance and your Council call you once more." Overhead, the Marine Hymn gave way to the Grand Anthem of the Council, a rather more sedate piece that gave away immediately that it dated back to when the 'Council' meant 'Asari and Salarians.' No self-respecting Turian councilor would ever have chosen a song so soft and peaceful as one to which he would march to the podium. _Gagarin_ pushed her way to the front of the crowd, stopping at the lip of the pool next to Anderson and peering down at the water. As the Councilor continued on, invoking the various member governments of the Citadel, the music overhead shifted to their respective music. When it came to the Asari, Anderson bravely waded into the names and anthems of the dozens of autonomous lesser republics that were so often referred to collectively.

For good reason, in Mallex's mind. Hopefully _Normandy_'s Spirit had inherited Shepard's patience, if she was expected to pay attention through such a long list.

Suddenly, _Gagarin_ shouted "Hey! I think I see something!" She energetically waved towards the center of the pool.

Perhaps _too_ energetically – the exploration ship overbalanced, and only the frantic windmilling of her arms prevented her from toppling immediately into the dark water.

It was then that Anderson reminded Mallex that the man had been a decorated soldier — and, Mallex had found, the _original_ Alliance Spectre candidate — long before he was ordered into politics. For all that it had been years since the man had had to run daily PT, it was still with admirable speed that Anderson reached out and pulled _Gagarin_ back from the brink.

Of course, pulling on a Spirit might not have the desired outcome; as Ash had put it, the functional weight of a ship-Spirit was 'something between a Human and a dreadnought.' A fact which Anderson discovered to his dismay as the act of pulling _Gagarin_ to safety also catapulted the Councilor over the edge and into the water with a splash.

Mallex winced – hopefully the water was deep enough to cushion the impact. As various shouts rose from the watching crowd, _Gagarin_ spoke with a loud voice likely boosted by her embarrassment at causing the mishap. "Councilor!? Are you okay?"

"Councilor!?" A new, loud contralto voice boomed, shock and worry fighting for dominance in her deep tone.

'Boomed' from down _in the pool_.

Only belatedly did Mallex look away from the still-churning pool of bubbles that Anderson had disappeared into, and take stock of the two new figures standing in the pool. One was a woman — a Human — in Alliance uniform, but with the traditional stiff, raised collar of an Alliance officer's dress coat extended down over her chest into an angular projection reminiscent of the pointed bow of a Human warship. While her head bore no helmet, she sported large, dark and blocky sunglasses tucked under her close-cropped and void-black hair.

Behind her, as if shielded by a bodygard, stood the tallest Asari that Mallex had ever seen.


	7. Old Soldiers

The tall Asari pushed past her Human escort and with two quick strides moved over to where Anderson was still splashing about beneath the surface. In one motion, she hauled the spluttering Councilor to his feet. Brushing the water off of his soaked uniform, she asked "Are you all right, sir?"

With one final cough, he answered "Just an unexpected swim, that's all."

The Asari froze for a moment, and then took a step back, looking intently at Anderson's face. "You're Human?"

Mallex had only a guess as to who the Asari was, but Anderson had evidently reached the same conclusion. "It's been a wild few years since you were last 'here,' _Destiny Ascension_."

At the mention of her name, the Spirit straightened her back and drew herself up to her full height, towering head and shoulders over the Human Councilor. "I see, sir. Did—" her strong voice faltered. "—Did my Councilors survive?"

The entire compartment held their breath. The death of the entire Council during _Sovereign_'s attack on the Citadel nearly three years ago had been the cause — well, the _proximate_ cause — of much of the political instability that had reverberated through Council space ever since. Nobody — quite — blamed the Alliance, as their warships had certainly tried their best to defend the _Destiny Ascension_, at Shepard's order. But _someone_ had to be blamed for the debacle, and nobody quite wanted to admit that the three dead Councilors had held much of the blame themselves.

"Ah." Anderson reached up to clasp the Asari's shoulder in one hand. "You held yourself together magnificently, long enough for the Councilors to reach their escape shuttle. But—"

"Oh." Her shoulders sagged. "How many?"

"All three. The Geth…did not leave many escape pods or shuttles behind them when they were finally overcome. The Council's was not among them."

The Human Spirit who had appeared alongside _Destiny Ascension_ waded up beside her. "I'm sorry. My sisters and I tried to keep the flashlights off of you, but there were too many of them. _Folsom_ tried so hard to pick up your 'pods, she even rammed a guy out of the way. _Jakarta_ would have followed, but she lost her thrusters on the way in."

The Asari super-dreadnought smiled feebly at the smaller Spirit. "Thank you, _Warsaw_. You were there until the- the—"

"'Till the end." The Alliance cruiser nodded solemnly, before peeking around the Asari and asking Anderson "Did my sisters make it? I can't help but notice that it's just me here."

Shepard answered for the Councilor. "_Folsom_ was too damaged to return to service as a warship, and was re-built into a fleet fueler. _Jakarta_ was shot apart from engineering aft, and was given a new home in the Migrant Fleet. _Madrid_ picked up most of what survivors there were from _Destiny Ascension_, but lost almost her entire port-side hull integrity to Geth pulse-laser fire. She's permanently moored in the Presidium docks, as a museum and a monument to the battle."

_Warsaw_ smiled sadly. "Ah, retirement." She eyed _Destiny Ascension_ out of the corner of her eye, and added with an ironic smile "And there I would have gone as well, if Miss 'I'm so big I need _two_ oversized eezo cores' hadn't gone up like _Illinois_ that one time her fairy accidentally set off a whole magazine full of katies." She poked the taller Spirit in her expansive chest.

As the super-dreadnought's face fell, _Warsaw_ hastily added "Oh, don't take it like that. It's a joke. 'Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful wreck' is only the _unofficial_ motto of the Alliance Navy because it would scare the civilians. You did your job as best as you could; not your fault the Council didn't listen to the warnings before it was too late." The cruiser elbowed the super-dreadnought in her ribs, having to raise her arm unnaturally high in order to do so. "I mean, my old navigator's son did his best to tell the—" she froze, before whirling back to face Shepard. "Wait, _Brian_!?" Wreathed in the blue glow of an eezo field, _Warsaw_ hurled herself out of the water and upwards, tackling the Spectre to the ground. "It _is_ you!"

Mallex leaned over to Ashley and whispered "And here I thought his first name was 'Commander.'"

She smirked back at him. "Could have fooled me. I've heard that even Tali calls him 'Commander' in private."

Meanwhile, _Warsaw_ finally clambered off of the surprised Spectre, and pulled him back to his feet. She knelt down to pick up the dark sunglasses that had fallen from her face with the tackle, and asked "Where's Hannah?"

"She's CO on _Orizaba_, now."

"Poor _Kili_ lost her favorite XO, huh? I bet she's still griping about it to all the other dreads bored out of their mind sitting at dock in Arcturus. First she was too slow to see combat at the Citadel, and then the brass take away her XO. Poor girl must be bored to tears."

Shepard shook his head, smile fading from his face. "It's been two years, _Warsaw_. The second War has begun."

The cruiser took a step back, eyes wide. "The Abyssals are back?"

"Yes, but the old ones aren't the problem. It's the Reapers. _They_ are Abyssals."

"More like _Sovereign_, then? Keeps talking and won't shut up?" She looked around the compartment. "I swear I just heard that guy, like, a minute ago."

"We sent him back to the Abyss for a second time only a few hours ago. Put one of his secondaries in the pool." The pool which Mallex noted now only held the table-full of Hierarchy rations and the chunk of _Normandy_'s hull. The Alliance foodstuffs and the _Sovereign_ chunk were gone, and good riddance to the latter.

"Hah. I bet _Normandy_'s chuffed that she gets _two_ Reaper kill-markers, now." _Warsaw_ tapped one foot against the hull beneath them. "And if my sensors aren't out-of-whack, she got one hell of an overhaul while I was gone. She could be an honorary cruiser, now!"

Shepard's just-reinstated smile dropped from his face. "It's…a long story, _Warsaw_. I'll get you caught up later." He turned to where _Destiny Ascension_ was helping Anderson climb the stairs out of the pool. Water sloughed off of the metal plates of the superdreadnought's low-profile armor, but the Councilor's formal uniform was still dripping wet and hanging heavy off of his muscular frame. A red-faced _Yuri Gagarin_ had fetched a towel from the rack near the bulkhead, which Anderson was using to try to dry himself off as best he could. As Shepard and _Warsaw_ approached, the Councilor nodded to the Spectre. "Perhaps we'll get _Normandy_ next time, Commander."

While _Warsaw_ stared on in confusion, Shepard responded "I think we can be satisfied with whom we did get." Shrugging, _Warsaw_ walked over to take up her prior position standing in front of _Destiny Ascension_, even as the superdreadnought hovered protectively at Anderson's side. Shepard gestured to the two ship-Spirits with a smile. "Looks like you've got your own bodyguard now, Councilor, and one with an escort of her own."

"I think they'll be more useful assigned to _Normandy_. I'm safe enough back at Earth. The Reapers haven't returned to the Sol system yet, while the Citadel is still missing." As both new warships' eyes bulged in shock, he continued "But I think the final choice is up to them."

Immediately, the superdreadnought asked "The Citadel, missing?"

Shepard nodded. "The Reapers hit it at the same time that they hit Earth. Thousands of them swarmed through the Relays, and physically hauled the Citadel off with them."

"And the new Councilors? Were they aboard at the time?"

"They evacuated to _Glory Dominion_ in time. Apparently, the Reapers didn't even bother engaging the system defense fleet this time. The last message from the Council had each Councilor returning to their respective homeworlds, to organize defenses." Shepard grimaced. "I wish I could say that they were going to call for a unified counter-attack against the Reapers as well."

Anderson cut in, speaking to Shepard. "And it is your job to make them see the light. I've looked at the sensor logs from the Citadel abduction – there were over two thousand _Sovereign_-scale Reaper signatures. Even if we pulled every last warship the Alliance has ever christened back from the Abyss, we can't match them. Hell, I doubt if the combined navies of the Citadel could manage it. But at least then we have _something_ that can stand up to the Reapers." Anderson smiled ruefully at the Spectre. "Normally I'd assign a mission like that to a whole team of proven diplomats, but I think you've got a better track record than anyone else in the Alliance. So consider this a task from the Alliance _and_ from the Council, on my authority."

_Destiny Ascension_ nodded crisply. "Then I will accompany you, Spectre." She looked between Shepard and Anderson. "What will be our first destination?"

"Palaven." Shepard's response was immediate. "With all respect to the martial capabilities of the other Council governments, any offensive action against the Reapers will need the Hierarchy's support first and foremost."

Anderson nodded. "Smart move. Councilor Quentius is likely to require little convincing of the need for a counter-attack." With a half-smile, he added "Hopefully he can lean on Irissa and Esheel enough to make them see reason."

"We can always hope." Shepard said. "_Normandy_ will depart as soon as possible, sir."

"Then I will leave you to it." The Councilor shook Shepard's hand. "Good luck, Shepard." With one final nod, he departed.

"And I will take up station aste—" _Destiny Ascension_ managed, before a roar like a fusion torch in atmosphere boomed out from the tall Asari's stomach. She sagged to one side, _Warsaw_ immediately there to support her. "Although perhaps I shall require resupply beforehand. Whom should I contact to arrange for an Alliance fleet fueler?"

_Warsaw_ held up one hand towards Shepard, stopping him from responding. "Ma'am, there's a better way to get you stocked up." She looked to the Spectre. "Since you've got a summoning pool aboard, I assume the mess can handle us?" At his nod, she flashed a smile of thanks and continued speaking to her charge. "Just wait until you try real food _yourself_, ma'am. Watching your crew eat's got nothing on giving it a go personally." The Alliance cruiser led the Republic superdreadnought out of the compartment, following an EDI avatar towards the mess.

Ashley was the first to speak once the two newest arrivals had left the compartment. "Gardner's going to enjoy cooking for a superdreadnought."

Mallex thought back to the stacked piles of plates left behind after even a small exploration ship like _Gagarin_ had had her first meal, and then pictured her next to the towering _Destiny Ascension_. "That's one word for it."

While the _Normandy_ made her way towards the Trebia system, Mallex ended up being roped in to helping Ashley go over small-arms familiarity for the widely-varying ship-Spirits now aboard. Thankfully for the Turian, this mainly just meant keeping some of the more inquisitive Spirits from trying out the more exotic weapons in the armory before Ashley could instruct them in the _safe_ handling of weapons that were centuries more advanced than what those Spirits had been familiar with before.

"Plasma, nanodesu?"

"That's right, and it hurts like you wouldn't believe." Ash hefted the Geth rifle and ejected the heat-sink core before handing the weapon to the small destroyer-Spirit. "It's not designed to be handled by anyone who isn't Geth — the skipper cheats thanks to his implants — so if you ever find one in the field, it's more useful to you as a club than a rifle. But —" she held up two thin metal plates linked by a spacer. "— they _can_ hurt you. These are two half-inch plates, spaced an inch apart." She handed the scorch-marked metal contraption to the destroyer and her sisters, who huddled around, poking at it. "That scoring was five direct hits fired from thirty yards. Note that the outer plate was not penetrated once, but the heat transfer cracked it nonetheless. The inner plate is untouched, but if that outer plate were your hull after a firefight you wouldn't be any sort of seaworthy."

Most of the Human ship-Spirits nodded along. Well, those Spirits who were present. _Warsaw _had apparently conscripted Dr. T'Soni to explain some of the non-combat details of life as a ship-Spirit to _Destiny Ascension_.

The only ship present who was confused was _Anglerfish_, judging by the frown playing across the Abyssal's features. "Yeah, it might rough up a human-sized target. But even the midgets here—" she hooked one thumb at the four destroyer sisters "—could tank pinpricks like that all day without caring."

The purple-haired, one-eyed Spirit threw a smirk at the submarine. "Ya spent your time in the War sitting all alone at sea or something? Never got into a real fight?"

"Yes." The Abyssal responded flatly.

"Hehe. What, you scared?"

"No." The _Seawolf_-class puffed out what little chest she had. "I'm the stealthiest ship ever put to sea! No-one could find me!"

The rest of the _Normandy_'s attached Spirit-squadron stared at her. "Poi…" Said one, doubtfully.

"Well, since you asked." _Anglerfish_ reached into her uniform coat and pulled out an antique electronics device. As she tapped at its screen, Mallex shuffled around the edge of the room so he could see over her shoulder along with the Spirits who clustered around her. Eventually, the Abyssal brought up a photo on her small screen. "See? Hull-shots of Ivan's entire Class of 2027!"

Zooming in with his camera, Mallex could only see a picture clearly taken from underwater, looking up at over a dozen human men swimming in a clearly-artificial pool. Their blue-and-white striped swimwear certainly didn't cover very much.

"Uhh…" aircraft carrier _Lexington_ managed, her cheeks slowly reddening. "You snuck into the—" she peered closer at the video "—Kuznetsov Naval Academy to take beefcake pictures of the cadets?"

"What? No! They're _hull-shots_! I sat in their training pool for _weeks_ without anyone noticing! Look!" _Anglerfish_ scrolled through several more pictures, all showing similar scenes.

"Hmm." Said the carrier noncommittally. "I don't suppose you have any 'hull-shots' from the showers?"

"No, the steam meant the pictures didn't turn ou— I mean, no! I was just there to prove they couldn't find me!"

_Surcouf_ shook his head morosely. "And to think that this is what submarines evolved into."

"Hey, at least I'm not some dumb Boomer. They ruin everyone's fun."

Mallex shared a glance and a grin with Ashley. The histories of the Abyssal War and humanity's experience with their Spirits had never quite expressed just how... 'human' they were. Eventually, the second Human Spectre elbowed _Lexington_ and shot the nominal leader of the _Normandy_'s Spirits a significant glance. With a disappointed quirk of her lips, the carrier quickly muttered to _Anglerfish_ "More on that later." She straightened up and continued in a normal tone of voice, glancing around to make sure that Mallex and Ash were paying attention to her next words. "But for now, since you had more _important_ things to do during the War than get stuck-in with a landing party, the important thing with ship-Spirits is that in our Human avatars we are _much_ harder to kill than a normal Human, but just as much easier to knock-out than our steel-hulls."

"With _small-arms_ fire?" Asked _Anglerfish_, skeptically.

"It won't _kill_ you, but it can knock you out of the fight much faster than you think." The carrier tapped the submarine with one finger on the Abyssal's forehead, causing _Anglerfish_ to frown and jerk her head back. "Your pressure hull isn't going to be holed by a few rifle shots, but enough fire will strip away your sensors and ruin your acoustic paneling. Hits to your legs and feet can jam your rudders or knock your screws out-of-line, and I hear you've only got the one of each."

Mallex nodded appreciatively. For one, it was interesting to hear how one _would_ go about fighting an Abyssal on land; for another, _Lexington_'s entire demeanor changed as she settled into an authoritative lecturing that would earn the admiration of any veteran drill instructor. Admittedly, not surprising for a ship that Mallex's research told him had spent more than three decades as a dedicated training vessel.

The carrier continued. "From talking to Gunny Williams, even here in the future most types of ordnance that are likely to hit a Human-sized target aren't going to send one of us back to the Abyss without repeated direct hits, and that's including man-portable anti-vehicle munitions. But after your first time stumbling about blind on a battlefield because you didn't think you had to duck when under fire, you learn quickly."

The _Seawolf_-class just crossed her arms and leaned back against the bulkhead, lips pursed in irritation. "Okay. So if we're practically _mortal_ on land, why ever leave the water? I can chuck Tomahawks from off-shore hundreds of klicks inland."

This question seemed to match the thoughts of pretty much each of the other eighteen ship-Spirits crowded into the _Normandy_'s thankfully-large armory, with the exception of _Lexington_, who simply nodded to Ashley. The Spectre answered, after glancing at Mallex to make sure he was paying close attention, "Because the Reapers are Abyssals, and the best way to fight one ship-Spirit on land is with another."

"Yeah…maybe this seems normal to all of you who spent the War blazing away at each other like some sort of 'Marine's fantasy,' but why not just let conventional forces do the shooting?" _Anglerfish_ held up her hands, palms-up. "I can only hold so many guns, you know."

Ash grinned back, before turning and nodding at the eye-patched cruiser. "You want to answer that, _Tenryu_?"

"Yes!" As if she had been waiting for exactly such an invitation, the purple-haired Spirit whipped out the sword belted at her side in an eyeblink, grinning ear-to-ear. "Because the best weapon to use against an enemy ship is _this_!"

_Anglerfish_ poked at the archaic weapon, before leveling an unimpressed stare at _Tenryu_. "Say 'sike' _right now_." Her expression of doubt turned to shock as every other Spirit around the room drew melee weapons, like some sort of bizarre Human twist on a Tuchankan birthday party. Most of the ships drew swords or short knives, while _Monitor_, _Virginia_, and _Thunder Child_ held various models of bayonet. For her part, _Olympia_ reached over her shoulder and fixed her bayonet to the rifle that was always slung across her back.

_Lexington_ shrugged, tapping the handle of her knife against her head with a dull _thunk_. "The eggheads could talk your ear off for _days_ as to 'why,' but the practical upshot is that two ships going at each other with anything from swords to clubs or fists are going to finish their fight in one or two good blows."

The black-armored ironclad explained "It may be compared to ramming, you see. All y'all 'modern' vessels may play around with the flash and thunder of your guns all you want, but come the end of the day a solid ram delivered with conviction shall suffice for most any foe you care to name." _Virginia_'s helmet may have covered most of the Spirit's face, but Mallex could _hear_ the vicious smile in her voice.

"That being said," continued Ashley, "Don't go chasing Husks or non-Abyssal enemies around with a sword. Guns work just fine on them." She shot a meaningful glance at _Tenryu_ as the cruiser's gaggle of destroyers giggled.

"That was _one_ time!"

"And one _very_ terrified would-be mugger, yes." Said _Revenge_ with a grin. "That video made the news even over in the UK, you know."

The Abyssal submarine who had started the conversation only deepened her frown. "So if I run into a hostile ship on land, my best bet is to fucking yeet a sword at him like some sort of _medieval lunatic_?"

"Or head-butt them!" exclaimed the small destroyer who rarely left _Scharnhorst_'s side.

The black-furred battleship nudged her small compatriot. "That's good for earning medals, _Glowworm_, not necessarily winning battles." She softened the rebuke in her words with a soft head-pat. "But to your point, _Anglerfish_, it remains the better idea to suppress an enemy avatar with weapons-fire to their head and extremities, before closing to deliver the coup-de-grace by" her lips quirked into a smile " 'yeeting them with a sword.' "

Before the Spirits could begin another round of energetic conversation, Ashley interjected "Possibly. We haven't seen what a Reaper's Avatar looks like – _Sovereign_ landed his steel-hull on Eden Prime and stayed in it for the entire battle. At the Citadel, he also kept that form until destroyed." She paused, tapping at her omni-tool. "The Skipper's got a theory that the 'super-Husk' that Saren's body turned into after his death might have been a partial-emergence of _Sovereign_'s Avatar. Here, I've got the video."

She played the same security-camera footage from the fight in the Council's audience chambers that Mallex had seen played so many times over the months following that first attack on the Citadel. He wasn't exactly privy to the internal conversations of the Hierarchy's higher-ups, but he always suspected that they had emphasized Saren's Geth connection — and therefore the 'Geth Dreadnought' story — in order to explain how the Turian Spectre had become something so utterly super-Turian. Before 'Geth implants' had become the accepted explanation, there had been more than a few pointed questions thrown the Hierarchy's way about there being some sort of top-secret Hierarchy super-soldier program, not helped by Spectre Arterius's extensive Blackwatch background.

After the video had finished, silence reigned for several seconds before one of the Spirits spoke. "That…was a lot of bullets, nanodesu."

"And he was kinda jumping around like crazy, poi!" added the destroyer with the long, yellow fur.

Ash nodded, exchanging a serious glance with Mallex. The ship-Spirits may have kept their eyes on the Saren-_Sovereign_… 'thing,' but Mallex had watched the oh-so-fragile Human he loved barely squeak through the firefight with her life. The Turian had been living on the Citadel at the time, and had taken his — very illegal — gun and marched to the Presidium to join the fight. He might have told C-SEC after the battle that he'd joined out of civic duty — the understanding Turian officers had kept him out of prison for that — but the short message Ash had sent him right after she arrived on the Citadel via the _Relay statue_ of all thing had been the real impetus. It still embarrassed him that he hadn't quite managed to fight his way to the Council tower, but at least he'd been able to talk the staff at Huerta Memorial into moving his bed into the same room as Ash had been stuck in for months after the battle.

He had honestly intended nothing more than to reassure a friend after her first major battle, but those long days in the hospital had been when the two of them had grown closer…in multiple ways.

The staff hadn't approved.

While he was lost in memories, Ash had continued. "As you can see, small-arms fire had only a slight effect on Saren-slash-_Sovereign_. It didn't _kill_ him, but as you see here towards the end the Skipper landed a solid hit to the head, which slowed the pseudo-Abyssal enough for Wrex to get hands on him."

"And then the angry space crocodile 'Hulk Smash'-ed the Abyssal to death." Snickered _Anglerfish_. "Okay, I can sorta see why you guys get all excited about that sort of fighting."

Regardless of her words, the reactions of the rest of the Spirits in the armory varied widely along the spectrum of 'horrified' to 'entranced' at watching a centuries-old Krogan Battlemaster demolish an eons-old Reaper Avatar by the simple expedient of using said Avatar as a Turian-shaped wrecking-ball applied liberally to the interior of the Council's Audience Chamber.

_Revenge_ was among those more bemused than appalled by the carnage. "Are you certain that this 'Wrex' isn't part-ship, himself?"

Ashley answered with a chuckle, "Wouldn't have surprised me if he had been."

_Revenge_'s grin only grew. "Imagine what their ships would be like, then!"

"What, you want to arm-wrestle them or something?" Ash said.

"Or something, yes."

_Surcouf_ chided the battleship. "They would be an alien space-warship, not some Canadian gate ship. Not a fight you could walk away from, Anglais. Or _run_ away from. Again."

The battleship lunged at the submarine, who danced out of the way. As the two Spirits descended into an argument which involved as many thrown fists as hurled words, Mallex watched in confusion as the rest of the _Normandy_'s attached squadron continued talking with Ashley as if nothing were happening. "So, any Abyssals we fight might be kinda like that, poi?"

Ash nodded. "We can only assume so, for Reaper Abyssals. _Gagarin_ reported encountering _Prothean_ Abyssals at the Mars research center, but they weren't much of a threat."

_Olympia_ elbowed the Spirit standing next to her, the smallest ship in the room. "Mars? I am rather surprised that you did not volunteer for the expedition to investigate there, actually."

"If I were to judge by what the spindly exploration-craft with the funny foreign name stated, then those 'Martians' were hardly worthy of the title. I should not care to waste my time fighting them when there are worthier opponents to best!" _Thunder Child_ boasted, receiving a hearty pat on the back from _Virginia_. And a doting head-pat from _Olympia_, for which the torpedo-ram turned a glare on her minder.

Spirits, they _were_ like first-year recruits. Complete with _Revenge_ and _Surcouf_ trading blows like a pair of trainees from colonies bearing centuries-old grudges that only the adults had learned were not actually worth acting on.

Mind you, that was more of a good thing to Mallex's mind than a bad thing. Inquisitive minds the galaxy over had long wondered what Humanity's ship-Spirits were like, a question not helped by the varied nature of the video recordings of them. Records that survived the War of the 21st century showed everything from stony-faced angels of death wading ashore amidst a harbor full of ruin and devastation to giggling children engaged in a food-fight. So while Mallex knew that the _Normandy_'s squadron were far from fully representative of the range of personalities of ship-Spirits, the recordings that he was making of them would go far towards showing Citadel society just what they were like.

He checked his omni-tool's message inbox with a brief glance – nothing. _Warsaw_ had promised to message him when she felt that _Destiny Ascension_ had acclimated enough to her new existence as a Spirit to be open to an interview. As fascinating as the Human Spirits were to Citadel society, Mallex knew that an interview with the Spirit of a ship whom most people knew by name would be all the more valuable.

Not to mention that she _was_ the first non-Human ship-Spirit known to return. What would a Spirit be like who had been in continuous commission for nearly two-thousand years, who had stood against the Rachni in pitched battle, who had defended against Krogan insurrection, who had held off Geth encroachment on outer Quarian colonies long enough for evacuation? The no-nonsense Asari who had climbed out of the summoning pool yesterday had seemed little different from most any Matriarch that Mallex had heard of, but it was likely that she had been still adapting to the shock of her new life.

"Establishing connection." EDI announced calmly.

_Destiny Ascension_ willed her racing main-reactor to calm itself, to return to its usual steady calm _thrum_ of power. As she stood in the center of the pick-up area of the QEC communications station, the superdreadnought fought a losing battle to keep her still alien-feeling fingers from twitching with nervousness. Goddess damn it all, she was the only surviving ship of her class, she was the Shield of the Citadel — no matter how she winced at thinking on that title now —, she was the Pride of the Piares yards.

She should _not_ be fidgeting like a maiden about to make her first speech before a regional forum. But this was no low-level collection of neighbors that she was about to address, this was the Council. Not _her_ Councilors, admittedly, but their equals in rank nonetheless. 'Equals' in name only, as far as she was concerned. She had done what research she could on them by delving into _Normandy_'s databanks, and was _not_ impressed.

Councilor Valern may have been something of a nobody, but his replacement Esheel was openly _hostile_ to the ideals of unity which were the bedrock of the Citadel confederation. Councilor Quentius may be more direct and honest than his predecessor, but from what _Destiny_ had read that was just the result of a simpler mind. And while Councilor Irissa at least demonstrated the sort of iron will and focused determination that had long disappeared from mainstream Asari politics, it came packaged with a lack of empathy and wisdom that should have been outright _embarrassing_ to a representative of the Council's guiding civilization. And while the superdreadnought was still getting used to the idea of a Human Councilor, she felt that Anderson's military experience did not _quite_ make up for his utter lack of political skills.

"Connection established with _Glory Dominion_'s QEC system." Announced EDI. "Extending handshake protocols. Security exchange to follow."

_Destiny Ascension_ regretted now more than ever that she had never been refitted with her own quantum entanglement communications system. But the Flagship of the Council had not left the Widow system in centuries, staying well within reach of conventional communications, and so the need had never seemed pressing enough to send a public symbol such as herself into dockyard hands. Her fingers flexed in agitation, and her lips twitched as they fought her control in an attempt to flex into a frown.

"Relax, ma'am." Came _Warsaw_'s voice from where the cruiser stood out of the range of the QEC cameras.

_Destiny Ascension_ shot a smile of gratitude towards the Alliance warship. Whatever the superdreadnought's opinion on the idea of an Alliance Councilor, she was _infinitely_ thankful for _Warsaw_'s help in adjusting to her bizarre new life. Certainly, some of the explanations given by the cruiser as to the day-to-day functions of life as a woman rather than as a warship had brought an embarrassed warmth to _Destiny_'s cheeks, but it was better than having to figure out such hurdles herself. "Thank you, _Warsaw_. For everything."

"Of course, ma'am." The cruiser winked at her. "Don't worry – the new set of Council brass can't be any worse than the last."

As much as _Warsaw_'s impudent remark towards the highest political leaders of the Citadel stung a corner of _Destiny_'s being, she couldn't find it in herself to rebuke the Alliance warship. "That may be so, but it is their orders for _me_ that I worry over. This new war — or 'War,' as you said — appears poised to make all previous conflicts since the Rachni war pale in comparison. I was built to fight that war, but these Councilors have always lived in an era of peace utterly alien to the environment of total war." After a moment of thought, she decided to fully bare her thoughts to her new-found friend. "I fear that they will shrink from the responsibilities that they must now shoulder, that they will lack the hardness of heart to lead the Citadel to a war whose like has not been seen in generations."

_Warsaw_ peered at the superdreadnought for a few seconds before nodding slowly, realization dawning on her face. "You worry that they will hold you back from the fight."

"I do." A quick ping from _Destiny_'s systems to _Normandy_'s net had EDI confirm that the QEC connection was still working its way through the required security-checks before the Council would answer. A Spectre would have the credentials to bypass that layer of electronic security, but _Destiny _had specifically turned down Shepard's offer. She would call on the Council as herself, not under another's name. "I fear that the shock of the Citadel's loss may cause them to pull back from the offensive actions that such a War requires. An understandable error, but a mistake nonetheless."

She felt her fingers start to dance again as memories of her first war came to mind. The grinding attrition of a century-long war, entire generations of Salarians and Asari hurled into the ever-hungry maw of endless war. Fleets of Rachni beyond number swarming over colonies one-by-one, desperate rear-guard actions by outnumbered fleets fought amidst the dying cries of civilian vessels as they rescued what few they could from besieged planets. A war where the Citadel confederation was ever on the back-foot, the defensive posture taken by the Council at the first hints of conflict leaving their fleets spread out across dozens of systems and vulnerable to concentrated Rachni offensives.

Her sisters disappearing one-by-one. _Horizon Infinite_, her engines crippled, lagging behind the retreating Asari-Salarian fleet as they fled from both the advancing Rachni armada and from the terrified screams of the Asari superdreadnought's soul as she was boarded by an enemy who took no prisoners. _Wisdom Eternal_ bellowing cries of vengeance as she rammed a Rachni super-carrier in a pitched battle above some no-name gas giant important only for its strategic location in an otherwise-empty system. No escape-pods would emerge from the roiling clouds of gas into which the two crippled warships fell. And poor _Amity Regal_, her newborn soul snuffed out in her crib as the youngest of _Destiny Ascension_'s class lay half-built in the shipyards over the colony of Epsidania's Reach as it fell to the encroaching enemy.

That crippling loss of the center of the Republic's military industry would have decided the War right then-and-there had it not been for the arrival of the Krogan less than a year later. As it was, it left billions more Asari families to grieve for their dead, and _Destiny Ascension_ to struggle on as the sole survivor of her class at less than twenty years since commissioning.

She hadn't expected to ever see her thirtieth year of service, then. A welcome thought at the time, given the unending stream of death and loss which had haunted her for the entirety of her short life. But instead she had been cursed to first centuries, and then _millennia_ of service. No more sisters would be built, for she was too expensive for the post-war exhaustion of the Citadel confederation.

Useful only as a symbol of the might that the Council claimed, but no longer held.

And then to see it all happen again when the Krogan rose in revolt, and later once more as shattered Quarian families fled a genocide as complete as that inflicted by the Rach—

The soft patter of her crew's footsteps failed to rouse the brooding superdreadnought from her thoughts, as a hand-sized Asari in commando leathers crawled out of _Destiny_'s sleeve and began to climb up to her shoulder.

_Destiny Ascension_'s thoughts circled ever deeper towards depression, as her reactors thundered louder and louder deep in her hull, to the alarm of her engineers. Only when a small _warp_ stung at her cheek did she freeze, and look over at the strange-yet-familiar figure standing atop her shoulder.

"Geia!" chirped the sub-Spirit, what _Warsaw_ had called a 'fairy.' "Geia!" she repeated, chidingly.

"I—" the superdreadnought began, words failing her. She was not used to being addressed so directly by any of the tens of thousands of Asari who had crewed her over the millennia.

"GEIA!" the fairy shouted, her tiny size converting the stentorian shout of a veteran commando-leader into a shrill squeak.

The superdreadnought shook herself, the commando-fairy keeping her balance only through centuries of experience and training. "You're right." She straightened her back, hands clasped safely behind her back in the respectful pose of a young crewwoman awaiting wise instruction from her betters.

Or of a cocky Matron preparing to explain to a haughty Matriarch just _why_ her advice was full of shit. "Yes. I think I _will_."

Nodding sharply, the fairy squeezed back underneath the collar of _Destiny Ascension_'s dress. The superdreadnought turned back to face the holo-display as it counted down the estimated time until the Council would appear. Come what may, she now knew what she would say, if needed.

She even had time to shoot a reproachful glance at _Warsaw_ as the cruiser giggled. "So _cute_!"

[Author's notes: Given that many KC writers have fairies communicating solely with the word "Hey!" or equivalent, I'm having Asari fairies say "Geia!" instead. As far as Google Translate says, that's the Greek equivalent to "Hey!", and the Asari _are_ pretty much space-classical-Greeks.]


	8. New Traditions, Old Wars

[Author's Notes: Honestly, given how much Kancolle plays on the spiritual-side of navies and maritime traditions, I'm surprised by how rarely I've seen anyone play around with the stranger such ceremonies. Such as the equator-crossing ceremony, which I've always found especially amusing. So, as it provides an excellent chance at more shipgirl antics, here's a ME-flavored spacer version of an equator-crossing ceremony!]

* * *

Mallex was awoken the next morning as Ashley's omni-tool blared its wake-up alarm. Blinking sleep from his eyes, the Turian rolled over in the spacious-for-a-warship bunk and checked his own 'tool.

And frowned. It was nearly two hours earlier than Ash usually woke up, even with Spectre duties added before her morning exercises. Yet the bunk shifted as his fiancé rolled to her feet.

Mouth still dry from a long night's sleep, Mallex mumble-coughed a question.

And got a response from an Ash who sounded much more awake than he felt at the moment. "Didn't I tell you last night?"

Mallex coughed again, to clear his voice for action. "Nope." He…wasn't at his most eloquent this early in the day.

"_Warsaw_ reminded me yesterday afternoon, and I cleared it with the Skipper. None of the older ships have graduated as real spacers before."

"What?" a faint memory tickled at the corner of Mallex's still-half-asleep mind.

"They haven't done a Relay walk before."

"Oh." He sagged back into the human-style thick padding of the bed. Even as he knew that he would want to be awake to see this, he felt that _some_ complaining was still in order. "Must _all_ Human ceremonies start this early in the morning?"

"Only the good ones. You going to get up and help, or no?"

"I'm up." Mallex rolled to his feet and stretched, unleashing a staccato burst of _pop_s as his spine complained at the lack of support given by the soft bedding. He'd have to do something about that, eventually.

It took nearly twenty minutes for the two of them to get into their armor — _Normandy_ was a warship, and anywhere in the galaxy could be a warzone by now. It would likely have taken less time if they hadn't 'helped' each other into their respective underclothes, of course. Even after years of intimacy, the sheer mutual — and literal — alien-ness of the Human and Turian body was still enough to distract Mallex and Ash.

Not that he was complaining, of course. Humans might be even more flexible than an Asari, but there were spots on Mallex's body that Turian physiology and years of military service had conspired to put beyond the reach of his talons. So, naturally, those spots _itched_.

Eventually, they both managed to pile out into the hallway, where Mallex followed Ash as she led him along. He flashed a hand-gesture at her to let her know that his helmet-mounted camera was now recording. This sort of personal-interest — or 'Human interest,' as the case may be — story always drew viewers, and it had been drilled into trainee-reporter Mallex's head how important it was to make the soldiers on deployment more relatable to the viewers at home.

Mallex figured that that applied double to ships-turned-Spirits.

"So, where do we start with the 'Relay walk' ceremony?"

"First, the 'softshells' — everyone aboard who haven't jumped through a Relay before — are woken up early with a 'surprise' emergency battle-depressurization drill." Ash flashed a grin at him as they walked. "_Warsaw_ walked them through last night what to do for that, just to be safe."

Mallex nodded along. He well remembered the time on his first trip to a Human colony — again, Shanxi didn't count — when he had been saving credits precious to a very-junior journalist by travelling cheaply as a passenger on an Alliance-flagged freighter. The crew had been more than a little cold towards the sole non-Human aboard, and had seemed quite happy to surprise him with a pressure-suit drill just after midnight, ship's time only a day into the trip. That he'd cheerfully gone along with the whole ceremony had really helped to break the tension, then.

As if on cue, the emergency klaxons sounded throughout the _Normandy_, red lights flashing along the edges of the floor. Hatches along the passageway slammed open as officers and crew poured out, already wearing their face-masks and vac-suits. _They_ had known that this was going to happen, after all.

Mallex and Ashley followed the crowd towards the mess hall, but stopped at the intersection of the corridor that lead towards the ship-Spirit quarters. They wouldn't want to miss this, after all.

He didn't have to wait for long.

"WOULD SOMEONE CEASE THAT _INFERNAL_ RACKET!?" bellowed _Thunder Child_, impressively loud given her small stature. Her oxygen-mask hung around the small torpedo-ram's neck, and her emergency vac-suit was on backwards.

All the same, the procession of bleary-eyed ships that followed her made their way towards the mess hall quickly enough. The purple-haired destroyer was hastily dragging a brush through fur still in disarray from the interrupted sleep, while the destroyers' one-eyed minder was wrestling with one of her other charges, attempting to fit the wriggling Spirit into her pressure suit properly.

"Are we sinking, nanodesu?"

"It's a _space_-ship. They don't _sink_." Explained _Anglerfish_.

For her part, _Sendai_ seemed wide-awake and aware enough to notice Mallex and Ash waiting at the end of the hall for them. "Looks like it's a drill, I think. Unless…" her eyes lit up "…maybe a night battle?"

Ash just grinned through the clear visor of her helmet as the procession filed past. In the rear, _Monitor_ was wrestling with a rather grumpy-sounding _Virginia_, trying without much success to fit a face-mask over the black-armored ironclad's helmet. "You heard the lady, Yankee. 'Tis but a drill."

"And so the proper steps must be taken! Now take your _dum grov_ helmet off!" _Monitor_ lapsed briefly into a language that Mallex's translator marked as non-English.

He and Ash shared a smile as the chattering crowd of Spirits disappeared around the bend in the corridor. They followed afterwards, slowly enough to allow the milling group to get settled into the mess hall before they arrived.

Given that the group of ships had only been introduced to the emergency vacuum drills last night, Mallex was impressed by the absence of actual panic or even worry among the throng of Spirits spread around the _Normandy_'s large mess hall. They mostly just seemed annoyed at being woken early.

The Spectre and the reporter leaned up against the bulkhead at the side of the door which closed behind them, waiting. They knew what was coming. After perhaps half-a-minute of hushed conversation among the ships, three loud booming knocks echoed across the room, coming from the aft hatch.

All conversation stopped. Eventually, the hatch hissed open, and in walked one of the crewmen. Mallex couldn't recognize who it was inside the black-painted suit thanks to the very-polarized visor, but the elaborate frills added onto the helmet and the extra pair of non-functional arms dangling from beneath the Human's actual arms did do a decent job of making them look alien.

Mallex grinned. 'Alien,' yes, but 'Prothean,' no. Admittedly, it was only a few years since Dr. T'Soni's publication of recovered Prothean records showed exactly _what_ the ancient alien race had actually looked like. The Alliance's initiation ceremony for proper star-sailors had already become entrenched by then.

Around the compartment, the stunned silence was broken only by a single, flat word from _Scharnhorst_. "What."

The crewman boomed in a clearly digitally-altered, sepulchral voice "I AM THE PROTHEAN GHOST! WHO SEEKS TO TRAVEL MY REALM AND YET HAS NOT KNOWN ITS EMBRACE?"

"A ghost-ish thing has arrived? Oh! We already have two kinda-ghosts aboard. They're 'Spectres,' poi!" _Yudachi_ giggled.

_Lexington_ sidled up next to Ashley and Mallex. In a low whisper, she asked "Let me guess: this is like some sort of equator-crossing ceremony?"

Ash nodded, and the two women shared a quick grin before the carrier shuffled back to her group.

"THOSE WHO TRAVEL MY RELAYS MUST FACE THE KISS OF VACUUM, OR PAY A TERRIBLE PRICE!"

"'Kiss of vacuum?'" _Revenge_ crossed her arms with a smirk. "I'm not snogging some Dyson dust-sucker, if that's what you're asking."

"ONLY A TRUE SAILOR OF THE STARS KNOWS WHAT MAY SATISFY MY DEMANDS! I GO, TO AWAIT YOUR CHOICE!" The 'Prothean Ghost' raised its hands and backed through the hatch.

Before the muttering throughout the mess hall could break out into an actual cacophony of conversation, _Warsaw_ stepped through the same entranceway, beaming. "So, who's game?"

"What was that?" asked _Surcouf_.

"The Prothean Ghost, of course! He who rules over all of space, and especially the Relay Network!" answered the Alliance cruiser.

"Isn't that the Reape—" began _Glowworm_, before _Olympia_ softly nudged the destroyer. It figured that the veteran warship would understand best the value of a morale-raising ceremony in the face of a growing war.

The old protected cruiser asked "I don't suppose this Ghost would accept a reference from King Neptune?"

"I'm afraid not. Only two things can satisfy him. The first option is a space-walk in hard vacuum, from one airlock to another along the hull."

"In space, nanodesu? That sounds scary. What is the other choice?"

"Those who refuse the Kiss of Vacuum forfeit their dessert for the remainder of the voyage!" _Warsaw_ cackled.

Mallex frowned, and muttered to Ashley. "I was told that it was _alcohol_ that one lost if you refused the Ghost."

The Spectre smirked back at him. "We changed it a little for this crowd. Most ship-Spirits don't _really_ care about booze that much, but _all_ of them need their desert."

Indeed, looks of outright horror emerged all across the compartment.

"Not the chocolate!"

"But how can I call it a meal without pudding?"

"NO ICE CREAM!?"

_Surcouf_ drew his sword — which he had buckled on _over_ his vac-suit — and flourished it overhead. "To the airlock!" He led a stampede out of the room.

An EDI avatar appeared next to the hatch through which all of the Spirits had disappeared, as everyone left in the room exchanged amused glances. After only around twenty seconds, the procession re-appeared. "_Oui_. This way, then." _Surcouf_ received an elbow in his ribs from _Revenge_ as they followed _Warsaw_ along the correct route.

_Lexington_ and _Scharnhorst_ hung back, and waited for Ashley to catch up. "So, the 'Prothean Ghost?'" asked the carrier.

"Couldn't exactly expect King Neptune to take up double-duty in space." Said Ashley with a smile. "But sailors are sailors, so they came up with this back in the 2150s. Any softshells who want to use the Prothean Relays must be christened into proper Tardigrades along their journey."

_Scharnhorst_ chuckled. "'Tardigrades.' Earth's little 'vacuum-bears,' yes?"

"Hey, I didn't come up with the name. Guess it fits, though."

Mallex had a comment of his own. "How long do you bet it will last, now that we know the Protheans didn't actually build the Relays?"

Ash flashed a smirk at him. "Well, the dumb-looking 'Prothean' suit shows no sign of changing. And I doubt anyone wants to dress up as a Reaper, anyways. Doesn't look as cool."

_Lexington_ also looked at Mallex. "Are there any similar traditions for your people?"

"No similar single ceremony, no. But any recruit into one of the Hierarchy's Legions isn't a true Legionnaire until they've faced combat and are blessed by the Legion's priests. They have to stand watch for an entire day afterwards, and if they fall asleep then they have to wait until their next combat deployment to try again."

_Scharnhorst_ clasped one hand to her chest and sighed theatrically. "Ah, truly if there is one thing which all military cultures are held together by, it is the hazing of new recruits."

The group shared a laugh, as they turned the corner to see the pushing crowd outside the _Normandy_'s port-midships airlock. The small compartment could hold perhaps only four at a time, and _Warsaw_ stood outside it along with a smiling EDI avatar, the two making sure that nobody entered the airlock proper without their safety equipment.

The _bare-minimum_ safety equipment: an emergency vac-suit to keep pressure on one's abdomen while leaving the outer limbs exposed, and a face-mask which covered only the eyes, nose, and ears. But not all of the Spirits accepted the mouthpiece.

"I am a cruiser-submarine of the finest design!" protested _Beluga_, the Abyssal stubbornly refusing to don her oxygen mask. "I can hold my breath well enough, thank you very much!"

"You ever try that in vacuum, though?" asked _Warsaw_. "Whole different experience."

"Then it is one that I will find out for myself!"

"All right. But if you let go of the rope, then you will float through space, all alone, _forever_!"

A voice rose from the waiting crowd. "'Forever,' nanodesu!?"

"Well, 'forever' or 'around a minute, until the waiting shuttle comes to grab you.' Whichever comes first."

_Olympia_ snorted. "Safety precautions? It's hardly a proper hazing then, would you not say?"

EDI's avatar shrugged. "Alliance regulations and common sense do not align all that often, so when they do it is best to follow along."

A round of laughter swept the corridor, even as the first four volunteers packed into the airlock. _Warsaw_ turned to _Gagarin_. "Want to bet how many of the subs actually manage the trip without freaking out and losing their breath?"

"A sucker's bet, that. Only one of them'll make it."

"Oh? Who do you think?"

"_Anglerfish_, of course. She's nuke-powered." _Gagarin_ held up one finger for emphasis. "She doesn't really need to breathe at all, so I bet her avatar-form doesn't have the same reflexes for it."

"Hmm. Say, fifteen credits to the winner of the bet?"

Ashley pushed her way through the crowd — an impressive feat, really — while dragging Mallex along. "Camera crew, coming through!"

"Ah, video evidence! Just what we need." _Warsaw_ ushered them through as soon as the airlock had cycled. Already in their vacuum-capable suits, both Ash and Mallex linked their vac-boots to _Normandy_'s hull and grav-fields as soon as they stepped out onto the hull.

A procession of three submarines were working their way hand-over-hand along the rope which arced over the swell of _Normandy_'s dorsal hull, towards her starboard-midships airlock. With their simple emergency space-gear, they floated above the ship like astronauts of millennia past, while Mallex and Ashley simply walked along the hull, observing.

_Surcouf_ had his eyes screwed shut even behind his face-mask, but was making the fastest time along the rope. Behind him, _Beluga_ noticed her observers and flashed them a smile, waving one hand in front of her face to emphasize that she had no mask on. A faint mist of vacuum-boiled moisture hung around her eyes and mouth. In the rear, _Anglerfish_ had stopped moving along the rope entirely, holding on with one hand while she gazed all about in wonder.

Mallex couldn't blame the submarine – his first time staring out into deep space with his own eyes had been a similarly-shocking experience. It really was one of the most unsettling sights possible to any member of a species which had evolved to live on a planet. The sheer _emptiness_ that was the rule of the universe rather than the exception could only be fully understood by one who had stood outside of a ship as it travelled through the void, billions of kilometers away from anything else.

The nuclear-powered Abyssal flashed an ear-to-ear grin at Mallex, her voice carrying through via the radio receiver in his suit. "SPAAACE!" The next four softshells came up along the rope, and _Hibiki_ poked at _Anglerfish_ to keep moving. The four destroyers were all smart enough to wear the full safety gear offered.

Mallex walked along as the procession neared the mid-point of the journey. Against the backdrop of the stars, the small almost-human-shaped figure who floated just off of the _Normandy_'s hull was hard to see, even for one who knew that he would be there.

Indeed, the Turian doubted that any of the softshells had noticed the 'Ghost' until his voice boomed across the radio waves, reverberating in the small, tinny speakers mounted in the emergency face-masks. "BEWARE, FOR THE VOID HOLDS MANY DANGERS!"

With a faint blue glow of biotics, the 'Prothean Ghost' tossed a very small _throw_ towards the leading figure in the group. _Surcouf_ held on tight to the line as he was — gently — nudged to one side. The Spirits who followed along behind him were not all as unfazed.

As the rope twisted under the biotic impulse, _Beluga_ lost her single hand-hold on it, and floated away from the _Normandy_. A puff of crystals flew from her mouth as she let out a shocked gasp, wriggling and gyrating helplessly as she tried to reach for the rope which was growing ever-further out of reach. Mallex eyed the _Normandy_'s shuttle where it sat a few dozen meters back, at-the-ready. Would it be needed?

_Anglerfish_ looked up as her fellow Abyssal floated away, but did nothing. More clouds of exhaled breaths shot out into the void as _Beluga_ shook a fist at the _Seawolf_-class, which only made her free-fall gyrations more chaotic. Her breath-clouds were getting smaller and smaller.

Just as the shuttle visibly pulsed its engines and closed, a pair of hands grabbed the wildly-rotating _Beluga_. _Surcouf_ held on to her tightly, while holding onto the guide-rope with his leather-shoed feet. The two submarines were hauled back to the rope, but _Beluga_'s panic only intensified, both hands going to her throat as her chest heaved, trying to suck oxygen out of the empty vacuum.

_Surcouf_ ripped his emergency mask off, and pressed his face to _Beluga_'s. The Abyssal's struggles froze for several seconds as the two submarines shared a breath. Then _Surcouf_ grabbed one of _Beluga_'s hands and pressed it to the rope, before re-attaching his mask and proceeding along towards the next airlock as if nothing had happened. After several stunned moments, _Beluga_ followed, and the procession continued.

As it was, no further incidents happened as the _Normandy_'s entire complement of softshells completed the vacuum walk. Or at least, no other incidents that were as interesting or camera-worthy: _Lexington_ had stopped near the midpoint to look around at the stars, and seemed to get lost in her wondering until Ashley walked up to tap her hand.

But the fun continued when Mallex exited the _Normandy_'s starboard airlock.

"Just because you're _French_ doesn't mean you have to go _kissing_ people!" protested _Beluga_, cheeks glowing red.

"You were _choking_, my friend. Would you prefer to be waking up in the medical ward, perhaps?"

"You had an _oxygen mask_. You could have just handed that to me!"

_Surcouf_ glanced down at the oxygen mask hanging from his neck as if only just noticing it, and then shrugged. "But then you would not have learned such an important lesson about holding one's breath, no?"

"Hmmph." _Beluga_ crossed her arms over her chest. Her face grew even redder, and she glowered down at the smaller French submarine-cruiser. "But that doesn't excuse _using tongue_."

_Glowworm_ wolf-whistled at them, which devolved into a coughing laugh when _Beluga_ whirled to glare at the destroyer-Spirit.

For his part, _Surcouf_ finally did look honestly apologetic. "My apologies for that; it was not my intention. But the sudden vacuum on my lips made my entire mouth numb, you see."

_Beluga_ reached up to run one finger over her own lips as they twitched, searching for a response. A brief frown flashed across her face, followed by an even-briefer smile, before she visibly forced it back into a frown. "Oh. Well, thanks for the _intended_ help, at least."

From down the corridor came the 'Prothean Ghost,' holding a stack of papers in one hand. "YOUR ENTRY INTO MY REALM HAS BEEN APPROVED. BEAR THESE CERTIFICATES WITH PRIDE." He handed the stack to _Lexington_, before leaving.

Mallex craned his neck to get a look at the 'certificates.' In very official-looking paperwork and language, each sheet pronounced one of the _Normandy_'s former-softshells as a proud member of the 'Ancient and Honorable Order of the Tardigrade.' At the bottom of each sheet were two signature-lines. One bore a stylized 'P.G.' and the other held the no-nonsense signature of Commander Shepard.

Grinning, _Lexington_ began handing out the papers to their respective recipients, before leading the entire procession back to the mess hall. Most of the newly-promoted Spirits traded rushed conversation as they recounted their scary experience, and Mallex noted happily that _Beluga_ was walking closely to _Surcouf_'s side. The Turian _thought_ he'd guessed right as to why the Abyssal submarine-cruiser had been especially flustered at the deep-space kiss. He was glad to see more evidence that he had been right. His ability to read Human women hadn't led him wrong with Ashley, after all.

The only less-than-fully-happy face was that of _Yuri Gagarin_, as she wordlessly handed a credit-chit to the smirking _Warsaw_.

* * *

The party returned to the mess hall perhaps an hour after they'd left, to find that Gardner had been busy in their absence. Plates of various desserts lined each table, and an entire refrigeration-pallet of ice cream had been hauled up from the stores to stand ready behind the serving counter. As shouts of joy erupted from the arriving Spirits, Mallex and Ash stood to one side of the hatch as the ships charged past towards their waiting rewards. Only _Lexington_ stayed behind, the leader of the Spirits standing with the Spectre and the Turian for a few moments. "You know, we didn't use to reward the pollywogs this well, even once they became proper shellbacks."

Ashley chuckled. "We still don't, not for most sailors. But most sailors aren't as adorable as that." She nodded towards where _Tenryu_ was already returning to her seat, five bowls full of massive mounds of ice cream balanced skillfully in her arms. Her sub-group of destroyers managed to pause in their devouring of chocolatey desserts long enough to reach across the table and tightly hug their one-eyed minder. Carefully, though, so they didn't stop her from handing out the ice cream.

"Fair point, there." _Lexington_ nodded. Then her amused grin broke out into a giddy smile that spread across the carrier's face. "Still, _SPACE_! Just wait until I tell _Lake Champlain_!"

Mallex and Ash shared their own smile as the starry-eyed carrier walked over to her spot at a table. Mallex was the first one to speak. "I know that they're each technically old enough to vote in a Republic election, but they can be so child-like, so…_adorable_."

"Coming from a man whom I've heard swear off ever having children of his own, that's quite the compliment."

"I don't mind kids when they're being cute; what I don't want to deal with is when they're _not_."

Ash's response was cut off as the hatch hissed open beside them. Through it stepped Jacob Taylor, the Cerberus operative also smiling at the happy scene within the mess hall. "LOOKS LI—" he accidentally continued in the deep tones of the 'Prothean Ghost,' before catching himself with a cough. "Looks like everybody ended up enjoying the experience after all."

"I would say so." Responded Ashley. "Told you that whip-lashing _Beluga_ off would make for one hell of a team-builder. Good _throw_, by the way."

The three of them chuckled, before grabbing trays and setting off for the small, dessert-less corner of the serving line where the actual breakfasts waited. Ship-Spirits may be fine with dessert for breakfast, but mortal bodies needed _actual_ food.

* * *

An hour out from the Relay that would catapult the _Normandy_ to the Trebia system, Shepard called another meeting of the ground-team members.

"We finally got word from Hierarchy Command as to the situation in their home system." The Spectre began once everyone had filed into the briefing room. "They lost most of their QEC systems in the initial attack, and the only one which was linked to something that could get a message through to us was an ultra-low-bandwidth backup pair. So we don't have a live-feed of the battle ready for when we exit the Relay."

Ashley nodded grimly. "'Initial attack' and 'battle.' So the Reapers stuck around in Trebia, huh?"

Shepard shook his head. "Only a few of them, enough to oversee the fighting."

"Then who is it?" Mallex blurted out, worried. For all that he had spent little time on Palaven since leaving for Basic so many decades ago, he still considered it his Home. Every good Turian did.

Shepard let out a breath. "Just as _Sovereign_ explained at Virmire, the Reapers 'Herald a Revolution of the Created.' I guess they couldn't get the ear of the Abyssals around Sol," the Spectre nodded at the three Abyssals in the compartment "which might explain why they didn't hang around. But in the Trebia system, they found enough who would listen to them. So while the Hierarchy's Home Guard is fully engaged, most of their foes are not Reapers."

Frowning, Mallex thought back to what he'd learned about how ship-Spirits had first appeared on Earth in the early 21st century. How the Abyssals and even many of the first ship-Spirits had emerged, guns blazing, near the nations that they had been fighting at the end of their steel-hull lives. But who had fought in the Trebia system? Certainly Turians had warred amongst themselves almost as much as Humanity had, but all now bowed to the Hierarchy. Mallex could not picture any Turian Spirit, no matter how ancient, fighting against the united children of Palaven. Which left—

Realization dawned, followed shortly by horror. Before the shocked Turian could get so much as a single word out, Shepard made eye contact with him and nodded solemnly.

"The Krogan Rebellions have returned to Palaven."

* * *

[Author's Notes: And there we go! While canon Reapers indoctrinated individual people, Abyssal-Reapers here can stir entire fleets of _warships_ to rise up and help complete the Cycle. I hope you don't mind this chapter being a bit short, but it seemed like such a good dramatic moment to end it on, and I'd rather not cut it off in the middle of a fight scene as will follow pretty much immediately afterwards.]


	9. Down and Down, Into the Deep

The _Normandy_ slammed back into real-space on the outskirts of the Trebia system. Each soul on her bridge who was not alertly manning a duty station had their eyes glued to the holo-display, which was set to repeat the tactical sensor readings.

The holo-display _flashed_ _white_ as hundreds of thousands of contacts were relayed by sensors that struggled to make sense of the mess. Mallex swore that he heard _Normandy_ groan around him as her computer systems chugged away at the data, struggling gamely to clarify the information for her crew.

The chaotic shoals of lights on the display resolved into several groups, marked by differing colors and shapes. Naval-caliber shells raced through space in their tens of thousands, still hot enough from the friction of firing to be tracked. Most of those projectiles had originated in the dense ball of struggling warships that enveloped Palaven and its moons.

The three fleets of the Hierarchy's Home Guard fought as islands of allied-green icons amidst a sea of hostile-red. The fringes of the enemy swarms were unknown-white, but systematically sharpened to red as an EDI avatar continued her rapid, hushed conversation with _Destiny Ascension_.

Unlike the _Normandy_'s Spirit, Mallex needed no assistance in identifying the ships who crowded the space above an entire world. The data readouts were clear enough: dense gravitational signatures from their large, armored bulk; high thermal output belying their oversized engines, and a constant staccato rhythm of thermal spikes from the vessels' numerous but small-caliber weapons.

Krogan warships.

Not for them the long-range volleys and rigid formations of the Hierarchy's navy, nor the agile slicing maneuvers of Asari flotillas. No, the Krogan ships were built for one tactic: close-quarters engagements. Yet unlike the similar techniques used by Alliance gunboats, the Krogan aimed not for a point-blank brawl of fragmentation-rounds and plasma-carronades, but for a storm of suppressive fire to clear the way for a boarding action.

After all, several of the projectiles which drifted past Trebia's Relay even this far out-system were recognizably boarding-pods, some passing close enough for _Normandy_'s sensors to highlight the life-signs within them.

"Anything important on the local comms net?" Asked Shepard of EDI.

The Avatar tilted her head to one side, raising one hand and pressing it to her ear as if holding a headset close. After a moment, she nodded. "A message for you, Commander. Routing it to your terminal."

The Spectre nodded in thanks before dropping his attention to his personal readout. Quickly scanning it, he barked out "Joker! Best speed for Menae, but keep us under stealth!"

"Menae?" Mallex asked, mostly to himself as he peered closer at the moon's icon on the display. The most top-secret area of the Hierarchy, site of so many testing grounds, training camps, and dangerous-research facilities. Not a year went by without _someone_ trying to sneak in and verify any of the extranet rumors about the place — usually STG agents or impetuous Asari maidens, but more than a few otherwise-stolid Turian men and women had been roused to illegal adventures by the wild stories of Menae's mysteries and treasures.

And now it was again what it had been a thousand years ago: the last battlefield before Palaven. One of the few things actually known about the moon was its colossal banks of surface-to-orbit weapons batteries: kilometers-long mass-accelerator cannons whose turrets lay protected beneath hundreds of meters of regolith and armor-plating, only the small apertures of their muzzles breaching the surface. The four dreadnoughts of the Hierarchy's First Fleet were the only capital ships within a sphere dozens of light-seconds wide, centered on Menae.

Well, the only _intact_ ships: the moon and Palaven both sported thin-but-growing debris fields in their orbits, throughout which shoals of frigates flowed and clashed with one another, adding yet more missed shots and broken hulls to the mess.

_Destiny Ascension_ stepped closer to Shepard, and Mallex didn't miss how her hands were curled into tight fists at her side. "And Councilor Quentius?"

"Is alive, but cut-off and trapped on Menae. He has requested that we pick up him and a team of his people from one of the bunkers there." The Spectre smiled grimly at the Asari superdreadnought. "The fighting is too thick immediately over our destination for even the _Normandy_ to slip through; too many hostile frigates and small-craft for the surface-to-orbit batteries or the Hierarchy ships to deal with. Perhaps someone could clear us a path?"

_Destiny Ascension_ pulled her lips back, exposing the sharp rear teeth that were the Asari legacy as a species of coastline predators. It could _charitably_ be called a smile. "Gladly." Gone was the reserved, polite mien of a wise Matriarch, replaced by the lean battle-hunger of a Maiden on her first mercenary deployment. Mallex had seen enough of those over his career — usually over the sights of his rifle — to know the look.

The superdreadnought strode out of the bridge, Mallex glancing between her and the holographic display. Should he aim for first-hand footage of a ship-Spirit exchanging her Avatar for her ship-form, or should he play the more conventional war-correspondent's part and record as much as possible of the overall battle?

Actually, why choose? He brought his omni-tool online. "EDI, can you pipe a camera-feed of _Destiny Ascension_ to my 'tool?"

Instead of answering, the _Normandy_'s Spirit simply pushed her way into his omni-tool, brushing aside the security software — Mallex didn't particularly mind; this was his _work_ omni-tool, and there was nothing on it that he would care to keep secret from the warship or any of her crew — to bring up a live feed of the Asari as she stood in the rear launch-bay as it decompressed.

The wide doors opened in front of _Destiny Ascension_, and with two quick steps she leapt out, her small figure soon disappearing astern as the Alliance frigate accelerated away at her maximal stealth-viable rate. The view switched to one tagged as the targeting-scope for one of _Normandy_'s aft-facing GARDIAN directors, whose powerful cameras tracked the Asari Spirit as her distance passed a thousand meters. Then two.

Mallex glanced up quickly, making sure that* his helmet-mounted camera was still focused on the bridge display. The art of keeping that camera on a target even while his attention was elsewhere had been one of the first things that he had learned, early in his reporting career.

When he looked back to the display, the GARDIAN director's camera was zooming in-and-out rapidly, trying to bring the fuzzy image of _Destiny Ascension_ back into focus, with little success. Mallex's eyes ached as they tried to out-do the best efforts of top-notch military hardware, with exactly the results that one would expect.

After a few seconds of this, the problem was solved: the Asari Avatar was no longer visible _at all_, replaced by the stupendous bulk of one of the galaxy's largest warships ever put into service. The gaping maw of her central engine bay — arguably the most distinctive feature near-universal to Asari warships — still almost engulfed the _Normandy_, although the two ships were growing further apart.

As the cruiser-sized 'frigate' put more distance between herself and the superdreadnought, the camera feed tracked the geysers of protons and anti-protons which sprayed out into _Destiny Ascension_'s engine bay, followed immediately by the hazy distortion of an Eezo grav-field snapping into place over her front-facing orifice.

Then Mallex involuntarily snapped his eyes shut as the superdreadnought lit off her main drive, even such a brief exposure to the blindingly-bright light having seared itself into his retinae.

The _Normandy_ continued her course towards Menae, but was soon overtaken by the vast bulk of the Asari capital ship as she changed course slightly to avoid the Alliance warship and bounded ahead. Even her kilometers-across hull soon escaped from the maximum-visible range of the _Normandy_'s visual sensors, and the video-feed on Mallex's omni-tool finally came to a halt, replaced by a readout telling him where the file had been saved to. "Thanks, EDI."

Back on the tactical display, the allied-green icon quickly separated itself from _Normandy_'s own dot, streaking ahead like the galaxy's biggest torpedo as she gleefully closed on the swarming Krogan vessels. Tendrils of long-range GARDIAN laser-fire stretched forwards from the charging Asari, speculatively clawing at some of the smaller frigates and fighter-craft. Most either evaded the long-range fire or shrugged off the diluted energy beams, but a superdreadnought had a _lot_ of GARDIAN turrets.

Dozens of hostile-red signatures blinked out of existence.

Dozens of corvettes and fighter-craft were carved open, the tactical display showing in full detail the tiny life-signs which were briefly visible once stripped of the protection of their ships before they, too, faded forever.

Well, not _forever_. A ship-Spirit's crew — 'fairies' for most and 'gremlins' for Abyssals, Mallex had been told — were as much a part of her as was her hull, and would return along with the stricken ship, herself.

But for all that the briefly-struggling figures were the Spirit-realm crew of Krogan warships inflicting as much harm as they could on anything Turian, watching them fade from existence one-by-one still made Mallex grit his teeth as he fought down a pang of empathy for the doomed fairies. Decades of military service had had Mallex fight most every type of 'enemy' that the Hierarchy had in the galaxy.

Rebellious outer-fringe Turian worlds, where fledglings ran into battle clutching rifles taller than they were, screaming themselves hoarse through voice-boxes not yet mature enough to control their second-tone. But giving their all for their homeland.

Pirate ships stormed in fierce boarding actions, Asari maidens who had not yet seen their first century discovering only-too-late that the adventurous life of a Terminus mercenary would let very few live even to middle-age. The flash of horrified-realization in their eyes managing to out-shine the muzzle-flash of Mallex's rifle.

Alliance marines fighting to the death on Shanxi, selling their lives dearly for every meter of ground on the utterly-average colony of an expanding Humanity. Doing what they could against the onslaught of a military thousands of years their senior, outnumbered and outgunned to a degree that they could not possibly understand.

Only fledgling-recruits straight from training and untouched by combat could hold on to the fiction that their enemies were _evil_, that they _deserved_ death for opposing the harmonious order that was the Hierarchy. Every life lost in battle was its own small tragedy, for all that greater tragedies may have ensued had the battle _not_ been fought.

Such was the Turian view of war.

"What?" EDI's avatar exclaimed, all non-busy eyes on the bridge immediately shooting to her. The Spirit frowned, one hand cupping her ear once more. "New message, Commander! Updating tac-map!" For the first time ever, Mallex heard a recognizable tinge of _panic_ in her voice.

The display updated, and changed _massively_. Nearly a third of the hostile-red ships flashed to allied-green. But the data readouts on them still highlighted the vessels as Rebellion-era Krogan warships.

Shepard quickly glanced down at his personal display, before immediately ordering EDI "Ensure that _Destiny Ascension_ copies, and then relay the message over the all-hands. Now."

EDI nodded, and from the overhead speakers crackled a Turian voice through the static of jamming. "—epeat, update IFF trackers for friendly Krogan warships. Do _not_ engage. Palaven Actual, out."

Mallex stiffened in his seat. A direct message from the _Primarch of Palaven_ himself! Only then did his mind catch up…unfortunately, not faster than his mouth. "Wait, _friendly_ Krogan?"

Ashley seemed to have the same problem, as a brief snicker escaped her mouth before one hand shot up and clamped itself over her face as her cheeks reddened.

Shepard spoke distractedly, at least half-to-himself. "Indeed. Looks like they _did_ listen, after all."

"Skipper?" Ash quickly recovered enough from her embarrassment.

"I'll explain in the shuttle. You're coming with me." The senior Spectre whirled around and strode towards the rear hatch. Without looking, he pointed one hand straight at Mallex. "You too. The galaxy _must_ see this."

Mallex shot to his feet, exchanging a confused glance with Ash. He had _never_ seen Shepard this brusque before.

Shepard paused in the open hatch, calling over his shoulder, "Miranda has the ship until I return. Be ready for a hot extraction."

The two Spectres — and one reporter — quickly made their way down to the shuttle bay. There, they were joined by the _Normandy_'s ship-Spirit complement, all eagerly waiting outside the Kodiaks.

Shepard wasted no time. "_Gagarin_, sit this one out."

"What!?" spluttered the exploration-ship.

"This is going to be a quick in-and-out strike. Experienced combatants only."

"I _am_ experienced!" retorted the Spirit. "Look, the Doc can vouch for me! I kicked Abby ass all _over_ that place on Mars!" _Gagarin_ glanced sideways to where _Beluga_ glared up at her. "Oh, you know what I mean."

As if summoned, the hatch opened to admit Dr. T'Soni, dressed head-to-toe in low-profile body armor. Even as she walked, the Asari was checking the pistol in her hand, popping the heat-sink out and visually inspecting it.

Mallex nodded. An experienced soldier, for all the coddling of her background. Dr. T'Soni looked up to see the whole group staring at her. "Wh—?"

"Shep says I can't come with you, that I'm not a good fighter! Tell him he's wrong!"

Mallex caught a split-second quirk of the T'Soni heir's mouth before she walked forwards and clapped one hand on _Gagarin_'s shoulder. "You are a _good_ fighter, _Yuri_, but an _inexperienced_ one as well. I learned the difference years ago, fighting alongside Shepard."

"But can't _I_ 'learn the difference' fighting alongside yo— ah, Shepard?"

T'Soni shook her head, the smile on her face visible for longer this time before she wiped it away. "I nearly died several times, then."

"I'd _come back_, you know."

"I also nearly got _Shepard_ killed, twice."

None of the three reacted to the faint "Couldn't _he_ come back too, nanodesu?" before the exploration-ship responded.

"Oh." _Gagarin_ glanced between Shepard and Dr. T'Soni, nervously drumming her fingers on her hip. "Ah, I'll go next time, right?"

The senior Spectre quirked a thin smile of his own. "Of course."

"Okay, then." With a final glance, _Gagarin_ stepped back and nodded jerkily to Shepard. "Uh, have fun, then! I mean, ah, just come back _alive_, okay?"

That resolved, the Spectre gestured for the crowd to board their shuttles. On the ground-team-wide radio frequency, he briefed them. "Turns out that some people _were_ listening when we warned them about the Reapers. The Hierarchy has been the only non-Human government to officially accept the records of the Abyssal war, and they've put the most effort into summoning their own ship-Spirits. I've just now learned that they also understood that there would be _hostile_ ship-Spirits returning alongside the Reapers."

"So they've been preparing-ish, poi?"

"By reaching out to the _Krogan_, impressively enough. I didn't think they had it in them."

Mallex bristled slightly. He knew that much of Humanity held a rather poor image of the Hierarchy — understandably enough, to be fair — but it always irked him how many assumed that the Hierarchy was as intolerant and militaristic as, say, Cerberus. For the love of all that was holy, nearly _five percent_ of the Hierarchy's citizenry was non-Turian! There were _Krogan_ Hierarchy citizens! The Hierarchy would certainly not balk at treating with _anyone_ whom they thought would negotiate in honesty.

"Evidently, I was wrong." Shepard shrugged, as the Kodiaks lifted off from _Normandy_'s deck. "The point is, a joint effort by Hierarchy and Clan Urdnot diplomats—" despite himself, Mallex _did_ chuckle at the concept of 'Krogan diplomats' "— have been hashing things out for months, now. Among other things, they seem to have managed to convince many of even the Rebellion-era Krogan warships to at least not attack the Hierarchy."

"But not all of them." Mallex mused, remembering the bridge display.

Ashley spotted an even bigger question. "Wait, how on Earth did a team of Urdnot _diplomats_ get even 'friendly' warships to listen to them? 'Civilians' are _not_ high-up on the chain-of-command of any Krogan military I've ever heard of."

Shepard chuckled. "Not _all_ of them were diplomats. A certain newly-minted Grand Warlord of Tuchanka saw fit to tag along for the ride."

Through the visor of her helmet, Mallex watched the smile break out onto Ash's face. "Wrex is here!?" Her voice was like that of the proverbial child at Easte— no, 'Christmas.'

"And head-butted a _dreadnought_, according to the message."

"That's him all right, Skipper. Has the dreadnought recovered, yet?"

Laughter broke out over the comm, a breach of protocol that nevertheless did much to dissipate the tension in the two shuttles as they descended towards Menae.

"A ship would need a few repair-bucket-ish things to recover from that, poi!"

Shepard re-asserted control over the briefing. "If they play nice, we'll lend them a couple. But first, we extract Councilor Quentius and his team. Apparently, they've been leading the Hierarchy's efforts at ship-summoning."

Evidently not-very-successful, though. The only Hierarchy ships that Mallex had seen on the _Normandy_'s display had been steel-hulled conventional vessels. No Turian ship-Spirits to be seen.

"What are they pinned down by, Skipper?"

"The combined landing parties of thousands of Krogan warships…and one Reaper. Apparently, it managed to land quickly enough at the start of the battle that the surface-to-orbit batteries didn't bring it down, and is now on the surface and out of their line-of-fire."

"And the Hierarchy hasn't shelled it from orbit?"

"Not with the Reaper sitting right on top of the bunker complex where the Hierarchy was trying their own summoning rituals, no." Shepard's voice was flat. "Apparently, they've tried to overcome their lack of success in summoning by upping the materials stocked in their summoning pool. The Primarch said that they were up to fifteen-thousand tons of anti-proton fuel.

Mallex's plates contracted so quickly that they clinked together with enough force to send spikes of pain racing through his body. The involuntary fear response was well-founded: that much anti-matter fuel would put a _large_ crater into Menae if it detonated.

"Ah. That…seems wise, Skipper. And we're going in to that?"

"The Hierarchy's been assembling what mobile anti-ship assets they have on-hand, preparing for a push to at least drive the Reaper away. Low-yield munitions only, but they should distract it enough for a quick strike-force to infiltrate the facility. The garrison is fighting back as best they can, but they can't hold out forever against Krogan marine-fairies. We're going to move in along with a Hierarchy relief force. They will focus on clearing out the facility, while we punch through to exfiltrate Quentius and the summoning team."

"So we're fighting these 'Krogan?'" asked _Lexington_. "On foot the whole way, or is there a body of water nearby large enough for us to deploy in and cover the approach?"

Shepard shook his head. "We go in on foot. With that Reaper standing atop the facility, none of you would last thirty seconds above-ground as a target as large as your steel-hulls. And what atmosphere there is on Menae is there under artificial containment fields above the larger facilities, so you couldn't sit over-the-horizon and fly strike groups in."

A disappointed huff was the carrier's only response.

Shepard continued, "We land in thirty seconds. Remember, Krogan are tough and ammunition is cheap, especially for you."

A thought occurred to Mallex. "If there are friendly Krogan ship-Spirits, sir, will there be any friendly 'marine-fairies' going in with us?"

"From what I've heard, they decided that the risk of blue-on-blue was too high, so no. All of our support will be Hierarchy infantry and armor."

The Kodiak lurched as it approached the landing site, and the side-mounted doors slid open. The two craft flew in echelon formation above a recently-assembled-looking military camp. Movement along one of the shallow cliffs leading up to the perimeter caught Mallex's attention, and his rifle was pressed into his shoulder and aimed out of the door before he even realized what his body was doing. "Husks!"

The ship-Spirits were only barely slower on the reaction, and soon a crackle of aimed fire scythed into the half-mechanical abominations. They tumbled back down the slope by threes and fours, but still several remained to swarm towards the shuttles as they flared for landing on a pad a short distance outside of the sparsely-manned camp perimeter.

Of course, charging two Alliance shuttles full of experienced soldiers would have been a suicidal gesture even for a fireteam of Krogan. The husks stood no chance.

By the time the Kodiaks fully settled onto their landing skids, nothing moved on the landing pad save for disembarking ship-Spirits. _Olympia_ prodded one of the husks with the bayonet mounted on her rifle. "These things are — _were_ — Human. How in the world did they end up _here_?"

Shepard's tone was grim as the grave when he responded. "The Collectors abducted hundreds of thousands of colonists before we put an end to it, and there wasn't exactly a way to do a head-count at their Base of who went into that proto-Reaper we killed. I guess not all the colonists made it there."

Ashley realized something that Shepard had not. "But the Collector Base was destroyed. _Where_ were these colonists being kept, if not there?"

"Damn." The senior Spectre responded. "They must have had a second base."

While the two Humans conversed, Mallex crouched down and poked at the husk with one armored gauntlet. Lines of forcibly-implanted circuitry traced chaotic patterns over the deceased abomination, but not all of the 'decorations' on the former-Human's body seemed to be the Reapers' doing. Mallex traced a near-faded line which described an arrow over the eyes, and under the distorted lips. Nodding to himself, he ran one last check, using his omni-tool.

"As I thought." He stood up, while the two Spectres turned to him. Mallex gestured to the readout on his omni-tool. "'Toneptus F. Portman. Citizen of the Fifth Tier. Resident of Datriux, Trebia System. Second-generation.' There's a militia-recall order out for him." He craned his neck upwards, glancing heavenward as if he could see through the atmosphere and the flashes of combat beyond to where Trebia's sixth planet marched along on its orbit. "Datriux must have been hit before the Reapers got to Menae."

"Bastards." Commented _Olympia_. She knelt down next to Mallex and reached to close the eyelids of the dead —'re-dead'? — husk, but found that the poor man's eyelids had been among the parts of the human body lost in the husk-making process. Jabbing the butt of her rifle into the ground angrily, the protected cruiser stood back up. _Surcouf_ and _Warsaw_ each made a peculiar gesture, crossing one hand vertically and then horizontally across their body before the group turned to walk up the ramp leading to the Turian camp, weapons at low-ready. Mallex tapped in a quick message tagged for any surviving officer in Militia-Corporal Portman's chain-of-command. The least he could do was let the man's comrades know what had become of their brother-in-arms. The dozens of other husks scattered about the landing pad would have to be reported by the next Hierarchy citizen to come across their remains.

The team crested the ramp, to see a small detachment of Hierarchy soldiers jogging towards them, weapons at low-ready. The sergeant in the lead raised one hand to signal a halt, before calling out "Oh! Spectre Shepard! Apologies, sir, for the mess. We're a bit short-handed, with everyone called in for the push."

Mallex _had_ wondered why the mob of husks had seemed unopposed in their wanderings so near to one of the most-classified areas of the Hierarchy. Then again, the service-ribbons on this sergeant's uniform _did_ flag the man as being a file clerk, so the fact that he was out in the field at all certainly backed his claim of having all the _real_ soldiers elsewhere.

"Not a problem, sergeant." Answered the lead Spectre. "Just a nice warm-up for us."

"Understood, sir." The sergeant straightened up to near attention. "We'll police the bodies, then, sir. General Corinthus sends his regards, sir, and asks that you meet him at the CP about half-a-kilometer down the road." The reservist tapped a command into his omni-tool. "Nav point's uploaded to your 'tool, sir."

"Thank you, sergeant. Carry on." The two groups filed past one another, with the dozen junior Hierarchy soldiers craning their necks like the amateur soldiers they were to ogle the ship-Spirits. Mallex exchanged an amused mandible-flick with the sergeant, the weary exasperation of any man experienced at dealing with junior enlisted.

As the _Normandy_'s ground team trekked on, they eventually came to a properly-manned, fortified outpost just outside of the camp proper. Presumably the overall camp had served as a staging post, but where was everyone?

Judging by the high rank of the Turian at the center of the Command Post, they were about to find out. "General Corinthus, I presume?" ventured Ashley.

The Turian sporting a general's rank-tabs looked up from the portable display-table that he had been staring at. "Spectre Shepard, Spectre Williams." He straightened up. "My apologies for the rather poor welcoming, but the situation has changed since you were last in communication. Councilor Quentius punched a message through the jamming to us, and relayed that the enemy were redoubling their assault on the inner facility. Under the circumstances, I made the decision to begin the assault earlier than planned." He gestured off to one side, towards where a pair of Hierarchy APCs sat waiting, their rear ramps open. "My command-section transports are at your service, so you should be able to catch up to the assault force before they breach the facility." He nodded to the ship-Spirits as they stood at Shepard's back. "Your…specialists will likely prove essential for the close-quarters fighting after that."

"Many thanks, General. Any further updates on the situation before we depart?"

"Most of Councilor Quentius's message was garbled by the jamming, so the situation _within_ the facility may have changed in ways which we are not aware of." The general flicked one mandible out to the side in an ironic grin. "Given that there's fifteen kilotons of 'boom' down there, we're more than a little anxious as to just what may have happened. My analysts have been scrubbing what we _did_ get from the Councilor as much as we can, but we haven't been able to pull anything more out of the mess. We'll update you if that changes." He nodded sharply at the Spectre, before returning his gaze to the tactical readout.

Given that they were in an active warzone, the abruptness of the dismissal bore no real sting, and Mallex doubted that a veteran of many battles like Shepard would feel slighted, either. The two Spectres led their team over to the APCs, prompting the vehicles' crewmen to quickly clamber back into their seats. Shepard paused, standing next to the driver's hatch and staring at it.

"Oh no you don't, Skipper." Ash grabbed one shoulder and hauled him back towards the passenger compartment. "Turians don't build their APCs for drivers like you. I don't want to find out if the ships can get seasick from any of the tricks you pulled back in the Mako."

Grumbling to himself, the senior Spectre grudgingly followed Ash, Mallex and several of the lighter-armored ship-Spirits into the back of the nearer APC. _Scharnhorst_, _Revenge_, _Monitor_ and _Virginia_ had already clambered on top of the vehicle, meaning that the entire _Normandy_ ground team could fit into — and _onto_ — the two armored transports.

Mallex remembered an interview he'd seen with Detective Vakarian from several years ago, where the first _Normandy_'s second Turian — if one counted the unfortunate Spectre Kryik — had mentioned just how cramped the back-seats of an Alliance Mako APC were for a Turian. Thankfully, the inverse proved true here: a Hierarchy APC's infantry compartment was quite roomy for two Humans, one Turian, two cruisers and five destroyers. Much to Mallex's amusement, one of the latter even stood on the shoulders of one of her sisters in order to bring her eyes up to the view-port and peer out. After a moment, she glanced back at Shepard over one shoulder. "Time for the attack, yes?"

Before the Spectre could respond, _Tenryu_ lunged across the narrow aisle and yanked _Akatsuki_ down from her perch atop _Hibiki_'s shoulders. "Buckle up, first!" As the destroyer opened her mouth to complain, the light cruiser added "It wouldn't be very ladylike to fall and dent your bridge on the way to the battle, you know!"

Nodding, the purple-haired destroyer did bring the buckle across both her and her silver-haired sister where the two small Humans sat side-by-side in a single Turian-sized seat.

Once everyone was settled, the APC lurched along down the road. While the Hierarchy built their armored infantry transports more for firepower and protection than for mobility compared to corresponding Alliance vehicles, it still took what felt like very little time until they rolled to a stop. "Driver says we're at the outer entrance." Shepard said, as the ramp dropped with a crunch into the Menae regolith. "No hostiles outside save for the Reaper above, and he's a bit distracted right now." Sure enough, with the ramp down they could hear a rolling crescendo of explosions from up above. Among the last people to exit, Mallex had time to gaze upwards at the embattled Reaper above them as it traded GARDIAN fire with what had to be dozens of Hierarchy fighter-bombers as they strafed it with cannon-fire and small rockets. Enough to keep the black-hulled monster too busy fighting off air attack to direct its fire at the vehicles unloading their precious cargo outside the facility.

Mallex followed the rest of the team to a ragged-edged hole blasted in the short wall of the little bit of the experimental-research facility that protruded above ground. The faint echoes of distant mass-accelerator fire echoed up from the shadowy interior, and several trails of smoke curled up into the thin air from where parts of the blasted-open gash still glowed.

Ashley opened a private channel to Mallex. "All downhill from here, into a maze of easily-defendable corridors stuffed full of pissed-off ghost-Krogan. Schematic even says there's nine main floors of the facility. Guess Dante was right, after all."

Mallex chuckled back, with the unforced levity of one who has faced death-by-combat hundreds of times before and come back alive each time. He started down, following behind the queue of ship-Spirits. "And the Ninth Layer of Palaven's Hell is…" he emerged into an open area, perhaps fifteen small tables with chairs around them and serving-counters along the walls. "… a food court."

He could _hear_ Ashley smirk behind him. "Makes sense. I know what Turian cooking is like, after all."


	10. Steam, Swords, and Screaming

The _Normandy_'s team heard the fight well before they reached it.

While the corridors were thankfully empty of Turian corpses — apparently the facility staff had evacuated in time before being set upon — it had still been downright unnerving for Mallex to follow along with the ground team. So it came as almost a relief when the team suddenly heard a firefight break out, still distant in the maze-like facility.

The ceaseless staccato rhythm of disciplined Hierarchy rifle fire was punctuated by the deeper, irregular rolling thunder of large-bore weapons-fire. Mallex _hoped_ that it was just the heavy shotguns that so many Krogan adored, rather than some sort of field artillery. From several hurried conversations with the Human ship-Spirits, Mallex had recently learned that some Spirits, even in their Avatar forms, could call up some of their lighter artillery.

Frankly, given the degree to which Humans were stereotyped as being hopelessly in love with oceans and seas — especially those of their waterlogged homeworld — it had surprised Mallex that their ancient warships were even designed with lighter guns that could be dismounted for service ashore. He'd always more assumed that Human armies and land battles must have taken second-place in importance after the various naval battles and admirals whose names kept popping up in generation after generation of new Alliance warships.

Up ahead, the two Spectres exchanged a glance before Shepard spoke quickly. "Double-time, advance to contact and watch your fire." The _Normandy_'s ground team made quick work of the empty corridors and storage rooms, which seemed to be all that the facility had for several upper floors.

The ever-closer sounds of combat led them along a path ever-downwards, periodically marked by signs labelled "Ritual Chamber." Hopefully, whatever experts that the Hierarchy had assembled had not been caught in the initial attack.

The fighting eventually grew loud enough that the audio intakes of Mallex's helmet began filtering their inputs, to keep the loud gunfire from drowning out other sounds. The team eventually came across their first sign of the Hierarchy's assault team, a quartet of medics working over two dozen injured soldiers who lay slumped against the walls.

Ever the veteran soldier, Shepard knew better than to interrupt the medics in their work. For their part, the only one of the life-saving experts who even glanced up from their work only wordlessly pointed further down the corridor before returning their attention to more pressing matter.

The wounded soldiers — those who were still conscious — gaped at the passing ground-team. To be fair, a pair of Spectres leading a procession of apparently-unarmored Humans _was_ a rare sight to see, especially on one of the Hierarchy's top-secret research bases.

_Mallex_ tried not to return the stares, instead grimly clenching his jaw to distract himself. He was _far_ from being a stranger to violence, but even the worst of the fighting he'd seen didn't leave the wounded as torn-up as those brave men and women had been. After all, the galaxy hadn't seen a concentrated team of Krogan marines for nearly a millennium; even the most vicious assaults by the Blood Pack or any other similar mercenary band employed more Vorcha or Batarian auxiliaries than Krogan fighters, and those were equipped with whatever they could buy or scrounge rather than top-notch small-arms shipped out from Tuchanka by the freighter-load.

Ahead of Mallex, Shepard rounded another corner, and immediately bent lower and moved more quickly ahead. Mallex followed, the sound of gunfire doubling and redoubling again as soon as he turned around the bend in the corridor.

The narrow walkway widened out into a large, open lounge. One side opened into tiered seats, which worked their way down a half-dozen rows before terminating in a thin, open walkway that fronted onto a shallow pool of water. Perhaps sixty meters by twenty, it looked barely deeper than Mallex was tall.

On the other hand, it was somewhat difficult to judge, thanks to the ceaseless strobing of interwoven tracer fire that raged over and across the summoning-pool.

The better part of a Hierarchy reinforced maniple was scattered about the lounge and rows of seats, split up by fire-team. Popping out of cover long enough for a short burst, before ducking and re-positioning while a comrade supplied covering fire.

Their opponents were lower-down, spread out amongst piles of crates on the other side of the pool. Armored vacuum-suits concealed their Krogan occupants from direct view, but the glints of lighting reflecting off of their helmet goggles — or was the light coming from _inside_ the helmets? — managed to be more intimidating than any Krogan that Mallex had ever come across, even in the darkest corners of the Terminus.

Well, there _was_ that one time with the—

A shot _almost_ missed Mallex's helmet, instead grazing along one side. The surprise, more than the actual glancing impact, had him doubling over and crouch-running after Ashley as she sprinted for cover.

The two Spectres and one reporter fetched up against an overturned vending machine, the heavy metal casing doing a decent enough job of deflecting incoming fire. Shepard popped his head up above the lip, and peered down-range for a half-second until driven back down by two shots which sent sparks flying from the metal next to him. "Thirty of them, in among the crates. Liara, do you have the angle for a Singularity on the two off to the right?"

"Yes, Commander. I ca—"

"Hold fire! Hold fire! Hold your Spirits-damned fire!" was shouted over the local radio net. A member of the Hierarchy assault force sprinted through the fire, sliding up next to Shepard.

She hastily introduced herself, "Commander Shepard, Maniple-Sergeant Carastis; this is my show until the medics put the Captain back together. And those crates down there were from the Summoning attempts; they're full of _refined Eezo_!"

Mallex's plates clacked shut all over his body, an involuntary fear response to the _kilotons of explosive mass_ just a few dozen meters away from him.

"The Hell?" Ash exclaimed, as she took a glance of her own over the cover. "Were they trying to summon a _fleet_ all at one go?"

"Can't say I know what the higher-ups were thinking, ma'am. But it's up to us foot soldiers to fix it."

Easier said than done, in Mallex's opinion. That was a _lot_ of angry Krogan down there.

_Scharnhorst_'s accented voice broke out over the _Normandy_ team's private channel. "We could push up through the fire; at least _Revenge_ and I can stand up to small-arms fire without losing too much. Maybe _Olympia_, too."

"I _could_…" answered the protected cruiser thoughtfully, the loud clanking of her rifle's bolt clearly audible in the background. "With fire that thick, though, I reckon I'd lose a lot of everything but my eight-inchers. I can have a go at it if you need me, though."

"Hold your position, _Olympia_." Responded Shepard. "We'll see if we can't dig them out another way."

"Bloody embarrassing to get held up by infantry, I say." Commented _Revenge_, her voice cool even in the middle of the firefight. "I don't care _how_ space-age they are; my crew could have swept them back with _small-arms_ fire if there'd been room for me to deploy."

A flash of movement off to the side drew Mallex's attention to where _Monitor_ and _Revenge_ stood behind a thick column. The small ironclad was waving her arms at the battleship, until _Revenge_ reached over and adjusted the loaned radio headset that awkwardly fit around _Monitor_'s headpiece. "AM I AUDIBLE TO YOU?"

"Yes, _Monitor_, we read you." Shepard winced, understandably. "Very loudly."

"OKA— ah, yes. Could you approximate the depth of that pool of water midst the center of the room, there? Perhaps it is noted in one of your electronic maps?"

There was a pause before Shepard responded. "Yes – just barely four meters. Not deep enough for—"

"_Härlig_! That shall be enough room for me! Provide me with enough cover to advance, and I can deploy right in their very teeth!" The primitive ironclad's lilting voice _beamed_ with excitement.

Shepard and Ashley exchanged a glance, and Mallex suspected also a quick conversation on a private channel. "Maniple-Sergeant Carastis, would solid-shot or shrapnel set off the eezo?"

"Depends on the caliber, sir!" The Hierarchy soldier ducked as a close hit punched a fist-sized hole in his cover next to her head. Shuffling over to a new position, she continued "They're rated for impact and shock damage, but not explosions. You have a plan?"

"Yes." Mallex's helmet beeped at him as Shepard linked the two communications channels together. "On my mark, suppressive fire down-range and don't spare your 'sinks. Cover _Monitor_ as she runs up to go for a swim." A chorus of affirmatives echoed back at him. "Okay…_mark!_"

Mallex rose to one knee and ducked his head close to the stock on his rifle. He clamped one finger to the trigger even before he established a full sight-picture, stitching a ragged cluster of holes in an overturned table but entirely missing the two Krogan crouched behind it.

It did send them ducking down even further, though; apparently even a ship-Spirit's fairies feared death. Or was it really 'death' if they came back with the ship?

A chorus of mis-matched rifle reports hissed and snapped from the equally-irregular line of ship-Spirits. Mostly bolt-action rifles of different types, but _Virginia_'s muzzle-loader spat sparks and smoke while _Scharnhorst_'s sub-machinegun steadily chewed through its long, thin magazine.

And _Anglerfish_…

"What the hell is that?" asked _Beluga_ as her fellow Abyssal submarine-Spirit rested her rifle atop the shot-up planter that both lay behind.

"My M4." Answered the _Seawolf-_class.

"Not the _rifle_, that…bayonet-thing."

"Oh." She tapped a button on the forward grip, and a loud, grating _whirr_ rose above the gunfire as the motor engaged. "I heard about it on the news one day, and found one online."

"You bought a _chainsaw bayonet_ on the internet!?"

"EBay. Duh." _Anglerfish_ returned her attention downrange.

The Krogan marine-gremlins now properly suppressed, _Monitor_ hurdled the vending-machine next to Mallex and sprinted forward in a half-crouch, as fast as the ironclad's short legs would take her.

Not very fast, even for a Human. But it got the job done.

_Monitor_ charged down the steps that bifurcated the embedded seats three-at-a-time and dove over the lip of the pool. A small fountain of water marked the spot at which she disappeared down and out of Mallex's view, plummeting into the water.

The small splash of water was soon overwhelmed by a massive surge of water up and out of the pool as a hulking ironclad popped into existence in the suddenly smaller-feeling room. Black, sooty smoke belched from two ports aft of _Monitor_'s single turret as her steel-hull jerked to life.

Even as the turret lurched into motion, the Krogan responded. A hail of mass-accelerator fire ripped into the stirring warship. Sparks glinted all along the face of her turret as shots ricocheted around the room, interspersed with the duller _thuds_ of rounds that punched through into the wood backing the primitive armor.

Three of the Krogan gremlins were too enthusiastic in firing on _Monitor_ and collapsed to the ground, riddled with rifle-fire. Their comrades kept up the barrage, though, even as the turret finally swung to bear on them.

Two gun-hatches were pulled aside, and a pair of coal-black muzzles glared forth.

Twin gouts of flame roared forth, the buzzing of shrapnel loud enough to feel deafening even through the volume-muffling of Mallex's helmet. A full dozen Krogan were instantly reduced to a bloody mist, painting the now-dented eezo containers in a chunky mess dotted with viscera and pulverized weapons fragments.

But such a sight would not have deterred live Krogan, and certainly had little effect on the remaining gremlins. Some had been knocked from their feet by the overpressure, but they righted themselves quickly and returned fire.

Only Shepard and some of the larger ship-Spirits had been crazy enough to use the lull in the firefight to move closer; the Hierarchy team, Mallex and Ash simply steadied their aim and sent several more gremlins crashing to the ground.

Perhaps sensing that they would be overwhelmed even if they stuck to their positions, the remaining hostiles rose to their feet as one. With a chorus of angry bellowing, they surged forwards. Eleven armored behemoths charged through the thick of the fire, the comical pumping of stubby Krogan legs doing little to make the sight any less terrifying. Three were picked apart by concentrated fire, then four, and then a fifth.

Six survivors reached _Monitor_.

One misjudged his jump and plummeted into the water. Krogan were hardly aquatic creatures even before they donned what had to be more than a ton of armor, and he disappeared beneath the surface immediately.

Another crumpled to the ironclad's deck and lay still. Of the four survivors, two dove for cover beneath _Monitor_'s pilot-house while the remainder sprinted behind her turret and disappeared from Mallex's view.

A plume of gun-smoke erupted from the narrow vision-slit of the pilot-house, glancing off of a pointed Krogan helmet without penetrating, but causing the gremlin to flinch. It never managed to recover as Mallex put three precise shots into his target, the last one punching a hole through an eye-lens.

The other pressed his shotgun flat against the slit and fired. The other side of the pilot-house bulged outwards from the blast, three flat plumes of debris-choked smoke sheeting out from the other sides of the squared-off structure.

Shepard leapt up from his cover and glowed an eye-searingly bright blue for a moment before disappearing. He reappeared in a flash right in the face of the remaining visible Krogan, sending a biotic-enhanced uppercut into the gremlin's chin. Its jaw visibly crumpled inwards and upwards, and the deformed Krogan stumbled backwards towards the edge of _Monitor_'s deck, shotgun falling from limp hands.

The gremlin did not make it; Shepard brought up the outsized pistol held in his left hand and drilled two precise holes in the thin, exposed underside of the enemy's chin. The Krogan slumped to the deck with a clatter.

A bright glow reflected off of the back of the Spectre's armor, but it was not the blue glow of biotics but the orange-red of angry flame. The ship's turret rotated further, now revealing to Mallex that one of her gun-ports had been blown open by an internal explosion, now large enough for someone to clamber through.

Even for a _Krogan_ to fit through. And neither of the two remaining gremlins were visible.

Flames continued to pour from the ruined gun-port, dripping upwards along the blackening armor like an inverted, fiery tear. Shapes flickered back and forth within, although that may have been merely tricks of the flame played on Mallex's eyes.

Without needing the order, Ash and Mallex rose from their position and advanced closer. Perhaps they could help? A glance to one side showed the rest of the _Normandy_'s Spirit complement following, _Virginia_ visibly exerting herself to outpace ships many times faster than her by design.

The mis-matched group had not yet reached the pool when _Monitor_'s turret turned further to face them. Suddenly, a cloud of grey-white smoke poured forth from the open gun-port, extinguishing the weeping flame for a moment.

Mallex was near enough for the cloud to just graze him, and he blinked in surprise at the droplets of water forming on his helmet visor. No, not a cloud of smoke, but _steam_.

"HEY!" roared out from within _Monitor_'s turret, followed by another plume of steam. The shadows within stirred further, before being occluded by a large shape.

One of the Krogan gremlins hastily squeezed his way out of the blackened entrance and dropped to the deck. His armor was cut in several places, long, thin tears instead of the thin, neat holes of gunfire. Blood dripped from each cut, but it didn't seem to have degraded the marine's fighting ability much.

Yet _something_ had chased him out of the ship that he had boarded at great cost.

Mallex was embarrassed to admit that he was stupefied enough that his rifle hung limp in his hands even as the Krogan jerkily half-crawled, half-ran away from the turret. After a moment, one of _Monitor_'s fairies appeared, silhouetted by the ragged edges of the gun-port.

The first fairy that Mallex had ever seen outside of a ship's avatar-form, it looked like a child's rendition of a Human. Disproportionally thin, its too-pale face was hidden behind an impenetrably-thick display of facial hair half-singed and still smoking. But from what Mallex could make of the fairy's face, the skin was far smoother than was normal, featuring none of the slight discolorations or roughness that belied an actual living organism. The faded blue uniform was also cut in several places, and the fairy staggered forth with a heavy limp.

"H—E—Y!" It raised the weapon in its hands — a nozzle of some sort, connected to a thick rubber hose which disappeared back into the shadowy interior of the ironclad. With the turn of a valve, a thin jet of pressurized steam raced forwards after the fleeing Krogan elite.

The gremlin dropped to the deck as he was enveloped in scalding steam. His armored suit, built to protect him through battlefields ranging from the boiling void of space to the crushing atmosphere of Rachni hive-worlds _should_ have laughed at the heated breath of a primitive steam engine.

But that suit was rent in a dozen places.

The Krogan writhed on the deck and _screamed_ as he was cooked alive in his armor. Mallex flinched away from the awful sight, but his rifle rose on reflex to put the unfortunate gremlin out of his agony.

Ash beat him to the shot, and the struggling pile of half-melted flesh stilled even before the report of her rifle finished echoing around the chamber.

Mallex glanced around the room, his rifle tracking along with his eyes as they searched for any remaining hostiles. Unless he'd lost count, there should be one mo—

"CLEAR A PATH!" bellowed _Virginia_ as the short-legged ironclad bulled her way past Mallex and sprinted for the pool. She leapt onto _Monitor_'s hull with a booming _clang_ and made for the turret, drawing her sword and flourishing it overhead even as she dropped her rifle for a pistol. "SIC SEMPE—" _Virginia_ was short enough that she didn't even have to slow down or duck as she hurdled straight into the open gun-port of her long-ago adversary. The _Monitor_ fairy with his steam-thrower barely had time to leap aside, tumbling out of the turret with an indignant "Hey!"

The rest of the soldiers outside exchanged glances before Operative Taylor spoke hesitantly, "Uh, should we go after her?"

Shepard snorted. "And go hand-to-hand with a Krogan soldier inside a cramped, unfamiliar ship? No. Let _Virginia_ flush him out."

"She'll barely come up to his waist, sir."

_Olympia _spoke up, even as she focused on feeding more loose rounds into the bizarre side-mounted magazine of her rifle. "Ironclads of her era were _made_ for point-blank slugging matches. She'll do fine." The protected cruiser tried to shut the magazine cover on her rifle, but it jammed open. Spitting out a curse, she yanked at it, but the metal cover was stuck fast. "Damn Krags" she hissed, and tossed the contraption into the pool with a splash. As Mallex watched, confused, she reached into the folds of her ankle-length dress and pulled an entire second rifle out, stock-first. _Olympia_ worked the bolt and checked that the rifle was charged, before dropping it back to low-ready with a nod.

Before Mallex could verbalize just how _weird_ these Spirits were being, several dull _boom_s echoed from the _Monitor_'s hull, interspersed with loud roars. One section of the hull bulged outwards from a small internal explosion, sending rivets whistling around the room. Mallex ducked on reflex, raising one arm to shield his face.

He lowered it in time to see another explosion blast a hole in the side of the ironclad, reaching from near the waterline up and across the deck for several feet. Black smoke billowed from the new gash in the injured ship, soon followed by the last Krogan fairy. He leaped up onto the deck, serrated combat-knife in one hand, as long as Mallex's arm.

The gremlin looked like he had been through _hell_. His helmet was gone, exposing a blood-streaked parody of a Krogan's visage. Where eyes, nose, and mouth should have been was a near-blank plane. Two pitch-black, featureless orbs took the place of eyes, the nose was missing, and the gremlin's mouth sported more teeth than that of _any_ living Krogan Mallex had ever seen.

The Turian shuddered, even as his rifle rose to track this last target. As intimidating as the Abyssal crewmen had been earlier, when stripped of their armor they looked downright _unnatural_. Far worse than _Monitor_'s fairy that he had seen, earlier.

Shots rang out, Mallex's among them. But instead of crumpling to the deck, the gremlin merely scowled back as the bright glow of a _strong_ personal shield surrounded him. Only then did Mallex realize that the other Krogan in this engagement had lacked the defensive tool, now near-universal among all but the poorest of mercenary groups.

And to remember from a far-distant childhood education that the nigh-numberless hordes of rampaging Krogan in the Rebellions had outstripped the ability of their war machine to fully equip. The sprawling Quarian factories that had kept the Krogan supplied all through the Rachni wars may have then been centuries away from being overrun by Geth, but they were certainly rather disinclined to aid the Krogan who were tearing into Citadel society.

So while Krogan industry was up to the task of giving most of their troopers protective armor and vac-suits, personal shields had been reserved for those troopers too experienced and valuable to leave less-than-fully protected.

The elites, in other words. And what Krogan shields lacked in ubiquity, they made up for in sheer _strength_: a Krogan could carry a _lot_ of equipment spread out over his muscled bulk.

Shepard had evidently reached the same conclusion. "Battlemaster! Take him out, NOW!"

The fire from the _Normandy_'s team and the Hierarchy's group redoubled, all focused on the single Krogan. The gremlin bellowed — more in _outrage_ than in _pain_, though, as he rolled to one side with an agility that belied his weight.

The fire that ripped through space after him ceased quickly as _Virginia_ clambered up out of the same rent in _Monitor_'s deck. Her left arm hung limp at her side, and the ironclad's coal-black helmet was dented and bent in many places. Several trickles of bright-red blood seeped out from underneath it, staining the Confederate warship's dress where it peeked out from underneath her breastplate. "CEASE YOUR RUNNING, COWARD!"

For all that the old warship _looked_ crippled, she still held her sword in her remaining hand, knuckles white where they wrapped around the hilt. Bellowing a wordless cry of rage, _Virginia_ surged forwards, spoiling the fire of her support. The Krogan grinned even wider, exposing razor-sharp teeth flecked with blood, impossible to tell at this distance which species it belonged to.

The two combatants slammed together with an echoing _boom_, _Virginia_'s slashing blade being caught in an open Krogan hand. Blood splattered across both fighters even as the gremlin's knife flicked forwards to scratch long marks into _Virginia_'s armored breastplate.

The ironclad hauled on her sword, less to free the blade than to pull her small body upwards, straight towards the gremlin's leering, malformed face. The Krogan flinched backwards in reflex, dropping its unarmored chin to its chest — as much as Krogan famously loved the chaos of hand-to-hand combat, even _they_ had limits.

While their famously-redundant musculoskeletal structure gave them great resilience, it also left the hulking aliens as even less flexible than a Turian. An enemy who slipped _very_ close to a Krogan could find themselves able to fend off grasping hands barely able to reach them with any meaningful strength.

Here, the diminutive size of _Virginia_'s avatar played to her advantage. With strength entirely out of proportion to her stature, she brought her sword about and slowly worked it into the gap between the now-panicking Krogan's chest and his chin. Even as a frantically-flailing knife dug bloody furrows into her back, the ironclad steadily sunk her own weapon deeper and deeper into the wailing Krogan's thin-skinned chin.

Eventually, the two combatants collapsed to the deck. But only _Virginia_ rolled aside and clambered to her feet, even if she did sway drunkenly from side to side. The gremlin lay still, a growing puddle of blood now leaking over the lip of _Monitor_'s hull and staining the summoning-pool's dark waters.

After three fruitless attempts to sheathe her blade, _Virginia_ eventually realized that her scabbard had been lost in the fighting below-decks. Dropping the sword to the deck with a clatter, she staggered towards the gash in _Monitor_'s side. From damage below or something else, the smaller ironclad was listing in the water enough for this last hole blasted in her hull to start shipping water.

Shaken out of his reverie, Mallex sprinted forwards, slinging his rifle even as _Virginia_ mumbled "Lend a hand with repairs, would you?"

Mallex reached the edge of the pool, almost touching _Monitor_'s hull on this side. He wordlessly looked between the gaping hole in the ironclad and _Virginia_, while Shepard voiced what he was thinking. "We don't exactly have a patch that large on-hand. You?"

"'m afraid not." _Virginia_'s head lolled about, eventually turning to face the lazily-spinning turret behind her. Visibly gathering her energy, the larger ironclad spat out "Hey, Yank! Drop your damned hull, and we can haul you ashore! _I'm_ not picking you up off the sea-floor if you tip over again!"

For several seconds, nothing. Then, _Virginia_ plummeted through the now-empty space bwlow her and into the water with a splash as _Monitor_'s hull blinked out of existence. The Union warship's avatar bobbed limply in the water, only feely attempting to swim for shore.

_Virginia_ broke the surface a moment later, water streaming off of her badly-damaged helmet. She quickly looked around herself, before slowly swimming towards her fellow ironclad. But with only one hand, it was slow going.

_Tenryuu_ ran past Mallex, determination on her face as she dove into the water. Her gaggle of destroyers stopped at the pool's edge, although one now held several loops of rope. She tossed one end of it after her squadron-leader with a subdued "Grab the line, nanodesu!"

The light cruiser caught up with the two ironclads just as _Virginia_ was glancing between her disabled left arm and the near-comatose _Monitor_. Grasping the rope in her teeth, _Tenryuu_ grabbed both injured warships and sent a rope-muffled shout over her shoulder, entirely unintelligible.

But it didn't need to be.

Several of the other Spirits had joined the smaller destroyers in pulling on the rope, drawing the party quickly towards the rim of the pool and helping them ashore. Mallex tried not to focus on the black clouds of blood that darkened the water behind them.

"How is she?" asked Ashley, drawing a canister of medigel from her belt.

"_Khorosho_." Responded the silver-haired destroyer. "No danger of sinking, now that she is ashore."

"But that _damned_ whoreson did a number on her crew." Spat _Virginia_, lifting her helmet enough to hock a globule of blood onto the floor. "Always told the Yank that that fancy fire-hose of hers wouldn't hold off a determined boarding."

Indeed, _Monitor_ had far fewer visible wounds than did the other ironclad. Yet even though she did not appear quite unconscious, her movements were slow and uncontrolled; mouth moving without any sound, eyes lolling lethargically.

_Virginia_ jerkily got to her feet. "She'll live, but it'll take a _long_ while in a repair bath afore her quartermaster gets her crew refilled." The Confederate warship reached up with her one remaining hand and doffed her helmet, letting matted strands of light-brown fur fall free. "Y'all go on ahead; I will stay with her and see what can be repaired at sea. Ah, so-to-speak."

* * *

A/N:  
One of the things that the Union Navy noted even before the battle between _Monitor_ and _Virginia_ was that the new ironclad would be _very_ vulnerable to even a small boarding team. Her only armament was the pair of slow-firing cannons, and boarders could easily disable the turret with wedges and force their way inside the ship.

So, a Navy officer suggested the totally-not-mad-scientist-worthy idea of using hoses linked to the _Monitor_'s engines in order to vent _boiling water_ onto her deck in the event of a hostile boarding. Sources disagree on whether such a medieval-esque system was ever actually installed, and it quite certainly would not have taken the form of a man-portable steam-thrower that one could use like a flamethrower as shown here, but the visual image was too much fun _not_ to use. MSSB and all that, I guess.

That said, steam burns are a _nasty_ way to kill someone. Enough that even a Turian will feel pity for a Krogan caught by such a weapon.


	11. The Sniper and the Scout

Evidently, the Abyssal-Krogan marines that had been overrun thanks largely to _Monitor_'s and _Virginia_'s actions had been a rear-guard of sorts. With them out of the way, the _Normandy_ ground team encountered only scattered teams of more gremlins as they pushed deeper into the Turian facility. Groups of four-to-five Abyssals, Krogan or not, were very quickly subdued by a pair of Spectres supported by a squadron of ship-Spirits and a Hierarchy maniple.

But that left the obvious question: _why_ were these Abyssal foot-soldiers split up that way, into centri-cred packets that were of no real combat use?

"They're searching for something." Answered Shepard, before Mallex even voiced his own thoughts. "Looks like the Councilor's team has gone to ground. Would explain why we haven't been able to reach them."

"Should we split up as well, then, sir?" asked _Lexington_. "Find them before these Krogan?"

The senior Spectre shook his head, helmet visor flashing in the harsh lighting of the hallway. "We clear out these hostile Abyssals first and foremost. These penny-packet teams of theirs aren't going to overrun Quentius and his bodyguards before we'd hear the shooting and move to their rescue."

"Sounds right to me, sir."

Mallex nodded along – the Turian Councilorship came with a squad of Blackwatch operators as protection – each one a veteran of years of hard combat and harder training. Spirits, Shepard was one of the few Humans around who'd matched talons — so to speak — with a Blackwatch veteran, and in the end Saren had only died by suicide after holding off Shepard and his team nearly one-handed.

However, after another half-hour of wandering ever-further from Menae's surface, and two more Gremlin fire-teams overrun, Mallex was starting to get anxious. Had they already gone past where the Councilor's team had hidden themselves?

This time, he was the first one to voice what he was pretty sure everybody was thinking. On a private channel to Shepard, Mallex asked "There's not much more of the facility further down than us now, sir. Should we double back and make sure we haven't passed them?"

The armored Human glanced briefly over his shoulder, before leading the team into the next large room. "Everyone, take two." He gestured for Ashley to follow him aside, while the rest of the Humans used their own ways of working the accumulated stress of deployment out of their systems.

Although he had been among them for only a few days now, Mallex certainly felt the difference in the _Normandy_'s ground team now that _Tenryuu_ and her four destroyers were detached to guard over the injured ironclads. No adorably-earnest straightening of hair or eager conversation. Instead, _Surcouf_ and _Olympia_ puffed away on cigarettes while the rest of the squadron leaned against the large crates which dotted the room, or against the walls. Well, _most_ of the rest of the squadron; _Anglerfish_ called up her omni-tool and was tapping away at it, lost to the world.

Mallex stuck close to Ashley and Shepard, of course. No matter how many personal-interest stories could be written about the various ship-Spirits, the galaxy's most-famous Spectre was a more interesting subject.

Shepard doffed his helmet, and brushed back matted fur from his face. Lowering his head and putting one finger to his ear to indicate that he was speaking via radio, the Spectre said "_Normandy_, do you have a—"

"Commander!?" shouted a voice from Mallex's left. Away from the rest of the group.

A two-toned _Turian_ voice.

Speaking _English_.

A blur of movement was all the warning Mallex had before he was knocked aside as someone charged past him and tackled Shepard, moving so quickly that Mallex was surprised by the lack of a biotic glow.

"It _is_ you!" The Commander was pressed against one wall by a Turian woman who held him in a tight embrace, head pressed to his lower chest and mandibles splayed wide in ecstatic happiness. Instead of a combat hardsuit, she wore an Alliance officer's uniform awkwardly cut and re-sized to fit her angular frame.

Mallex's rifle was half-raised on instinct before his mind could catch up and put two and two together. Turian woman, in Alliance uniform, speaking English, and in a Hierarchy facility that was set-up to summon ship-Spirits.

At his side, Ashley slung her rifle over her shoulder, evidently on the same page. "_Normandy_." It was not a question, and there was an audible smile in her voice.

"Gunny!" Just like that, the blur was back as _Normandy_ bounced off of Shepard and hugged Ashley just as tightly. "I _knew_ you guys would find me!" The first Turian Spirit whom Mallex had met in-person barely came up to Ash's shoulder. Now that he could get a closer look at her, she seemed barely old enough to head off for basic training; her fringe still bobbed slightly as her head moved, not yet as solid as those of an adult.

A _young_ Spirit, then. Not too surprising, given the short career of that first _Normandy_, no matter how eventful it was. It also made the child-like glee in her voice all the more expected as she raised her head and shot a glare into the shadowed corner of the room. "See? I _told_ you they would make it! Commander _always_ succeeds!"

Mallex followed her gaze in time to see a handful of shadows separate themselves from the crates and step into the light. _Turian_ shadows. His omni-tool beeped as several new contacts linked themselves to the local friendly-forces tracking net.

Two were no less shadowy in the light, covered fringe-to-feet in the matte-black armor that gave the Blackwatch their name. Even their visors seemed to absorb light as much as reflect it. They stood still as statues except for a slight nod of the head to the third, who stepped forwards. His blue-and-black armor was clearly battle-worn, and not all of the divots and grooves were freshly-carved. This non-Blackwatch operator shook his head and spoke. "I should have known to listen to her. But we really should stop meeting like this, Commander." He removed his own helmet, revealing the scarred face of Garrus Vakarian.

Shepard, grinning, stepped up to his old friend and the two clasped hands. "Can't say I know what you're talking about. Bottled up in a warehouse, under siege by Krogan? Doesn't ring a bell."

Ashley elbowed the senior Spectre, adding, "Sorry about that; he's been missing too many of the old crew these last few months. Joker's had too much of an influence, I'm afraid."

"Oh!" _Normandy_ burrowed her way into the group and stood in front of Shepard, head craned back to look up at him. "Is Joker here? I want to talk to him!" She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Vakarian in a very Human gesture, awkwardly contorting her hand. "This meanie hasn't told me what happened to everyone, but I just _know_ that they've done great things after—" her voice cracked, and she swallowed before continuing. "After, uh, _that_. And stuff."

Shepard idly patted the small Turian on her shoulder. "We'll have time to catch up later, on the _No—_" The Commander caught himself, before flashing a smile at the first _Normandy_. In a much softer voice than normal, he said "Well, it's a surprise!"

"Ooh! I love surprises! A good scout frigate finds _all_ the surprises, so nobody else has to!" She put one hand on her hip, and jabbed a finger overhead for emphasis. Shepard, seemingly unable to resist the cuteness, patted her on the head. _Normandy_ — _Normandy_ one, as Mallex would have to start differentiating the two — melted into it, her subharmonics humming her happiness for all to hear.

Behind the happy reunion, the two Blackwatch operators were joined by another pair who emerged from behind a crate. One was another of their detail, while the last — "Sir!" Mallex snapped his hand up in a salute. The Councilor may technically stand outside of the Hierarchy's command, well, _hierarchy_, but he was still one of those people that merited the proper response.

"As you were." The Hierarchy's recently-appointed representative to the Council answered in a weary voice. Turning to the two Spectres, he continued, "I am glad to see that you made it through the forces besieging us. Even with Agent Vakarian's unexpected success," he nodded to _Normandy_, "we were rather hard-pressed and forced into constant withdrawal from the upper levels." Without a helmet, the Councilor's face was easy to read as his mandibles clacked together grimly. "These _Reapers—_"

The emphasis on that word triggered _Normandy_ to reach over and, in a massive breach of decorum for one of the four most powerful people in Council Space, grabbed both of the Councilor's hands and hold them down. One of the Blackwatch operatives reached forwards briefly, before catching himself as _Normandy_ indignantly exclaimed "Hey! No finger quotes!"

"I—" Councilor Quentius's brow-plates rose in confusion, while one mandible twitched, belying the smile that he held back. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, these very-serious Reapers are more 'diverse' in their soldiers than was anticipated. Menae has not seen an assault by Krogan in many centuries."

"And they're _jerks_! Not _nice_ like Uncle Wrex!"

Mallex blinked in surprise, trying to reconcile a young Turian's mention of her 'Uncle Wrex' with the contentious figure of Urdnot Wrex. Unifier of Tuchanka — for good or for ill, depending on whom in Council space one asked. An autocratic philosopher-king leading his people to a brighter future, or the grim herald of a second Rebellion.

But not 'nice.'

"We pushed past their rear-guard faster than they likely expected, Councilor, thanks to some of our specialists." Shepard gestured towards the ship-Spirits, who were crowded together and glancing curiously at the newcomers for all that they kept a polite distance from the conversation.

_Normandy_ quickly brought her head around, seemingly only now noticing her fellow Spirits. "Oh! New people!" She darted off.

Mallex's helmet chirped in his ear once more, as Ashley opened a private channel. "So _cute_!"

The reporter glanced between his bondmate-to-be and the child-aged Turian Spirit, and sighed ruefully for all that he also let a smile break out onto his face. He had a feeling that he and Ash would be having the 'children talk' sooner rather than later.

While he had been distracted, Shepard had been talking with the Councilor. "—might have been driven off already. As we reach the upper floors, we'll check with orbital support and make sure the way out is clear. If needed, we can call down a barrage on the Reaper, now that all of the eezo upstairs is gone."

Mallex blinked in surprise, which faded to annoyance. He hadn't thought to scan the crates as he passed them after the summoning-pool firefight, although he _should_ have. But then again, anybody accepted into the Spectres was someone who kept their thoughts about them even in the thickest of combat.

"M'sorry." Came _Normandy_'s voice as she called over one shoulder from where she had tightly attached herself to Dr. T'Soni's side. "I was _hungry_."

_Yudachi_ giggled. "_Normandy_-chan ate all that? Akagi-san has _competition_!" Her laughter only redoubled as the frigate buried her face in the Asari's side, mandibles visibly twitched in embarrassment.

" 'm _not_ fat!" she responded, before glancing down at herself and tilting her head to one side. _Normandy_ then looked up and back at Garrus. "Hey, can Turians _get_ fat? I don't think I've ever seen one!"

Mallex made certain that his camera caught the utterly flummoxed look on the former detective's face. "Uh…"

Shepard evidently decided to cover for his old friend, loudly announcing "All right everyone, break's over. We've got our VIPs — and one extra — so now we retrace our little stroll. Keep your guns ready and your eyes down-range; chances are that there's more of those Gremlins still out there."

* * *

As it turned out, only a single last encounter was had with the Abyssal Krogan. The four Gremlins, rather lost-looking by this point, barely got a few scattered shots off before Shepard _charged_ forwards, channeling his biotics into a powerful wave that reduced one unfortunate marine to a shredded corpse and sent the remainder flying in disarray. Rifle-fire picked them off before they could regain their feet or crawl into cover.

The expedition paused for another break as they passed the summoning-pool. Shepard fiddled with his omni-tool in an attempt to break through the still-present jamming, while _Normandy_ wandered off to the eezo crates, checking each one in turn. Apparently confirming that they were all empty, the youngest Spirit eventually sat down on the edge of the pool, legs swinging to and fro as she gazed down into the water. Mallex was close enough to catch the faint tune that she was humming, albeit with her subharmonics losing the rhythm and going off on their own occasionally, as happened to most Turian fledglings.

He shook his head. Now he understood all of the references he'd found in Human records to the _eerie_ nature of many of the younger ship-Spirits and Abyssals. _Normandy_ looked young enough that she should still be hiding behind her parents' legs at public events, just barely finishing her pre-Basic schooling. Playing games with friends in parks and fields, not marching through a corpse-strewn battlefield along with a team of Blackwatch elites.

Spirits, was _this_ how it felt for Ashley to look at the likes of _Akatsuki_ and her sisters? He knew that they were supposed to be among the youngest-looking ship-Spirits, but Mallex hadn't yet gotten the hang of estimating a Human's age. At least the older ones were easy to tell, with their greying fur and creases showing up everywhere. He remembered what had happened that one time when he'd asked Ash if Human women at least were like Asari, where you could take a rough guess at their age by their chest-size: the larger, the older.

He'd slept on the couch, that night. He still wasn't certain what he'd said wrong, so he hadn't revisited the conversation since.

Shepard, at least, was all business. "—nfirm no enemy presence above-ground, Joker?"… "I'm sure he did. Tail between his legs, you say? Sounds like she's earning her keep, up there."

Ah. By the sound of it, _Destiny Ascension_ and _Warsaw_ were getting revenge for their destruction only two short years ago. The Trebia system may have been crowded with warships right now, but a vessel of _Destiny_'s scale tended to stand out in a crowd, so to speak.

Eventually, Shepard quipped one final response to the _Normandy_ — _Normandy_ two — and turned to the group. "Coast is clear; we're heading up."

"A moment, Spectre." Councilor Quentius spoke. He gestured to the Hierarchy maniple that had been tagging along with the _Normandy_ team — if largely unneeded, in the end — and said, "I will remain here, and see what can be done to bring more Hierarchy-built ships… 'back.'" His mandibles flicked an indulgent smile at where the young _Normandy_ was talking with _Scharnhorst_, and then gestured to Vakarian. "I believe that we have enough of an understanding of the process, now, to spare the services of our ship-Spirit expert. I believe that he will be more useful to us all as part of your crew, once more."

Before Shepard could answer, the hyper-active frigate butted into the conversation once more and latched onto Vakarian with the same limpet-like determination that she had shown earlier. "Yay!" As her forehead audibly _clanged_ into the former-detective's armor, she added a dull "Ow."

Even while Ashley raised one hand to cover her warm smile, a quick shake of the head was apparently enough to get the frigate back on-track. The child-like frigate looked up at Councilor Quentius, and spoke to one of the most powerful people in the galaxy with all the bluntness of someone of her apparent age. "Oh! I forgot to say – I _tried_ to wake up some of the other ships that I went past when Da— uh, when Garrus called. But they were too sleepy and didn't wake up. But I left the lights on when I left! So they'll wake up soon, I know it!"

The Councilor looked back at her, puzzled. "You…left the light on?"

"Yeah! It's really dark in, uh, _there_, so I thought that maybe they would sleep in if nobody turned on the lights!" She separated from Garrus, and dropped her gaze to her feet as she shuffled them slightly. "I tried to pull them out of bed, but they were so _big_!" She looked back up and held her hands out wide, which would barely reach across an adult Turian's shoulders. "But I'm a scout frigate, so I know it's my job to mark the way for everybody to follow, so I left all the doors open and lights on from my bed to this pool! I know they can follow it!"

Shepard asked "And these were _Turian_ Spirits?"

"Oh!" _Normandy_ looked down at her freshly-summoned Avatar once more, running one talon along her other arm. "Uh, I think they were? I wasn't really sure what was going on, and it was dark at first, and they were kinda scary, and—"

Garrus cut her off, which was probably a kindness. "You did good, _Normandy_." He set one hand on her shoulder, which caused the young warship to beam a blindingly-bright smile and re-attach herself to his side.

Meanwhile, the Councilor shook himself. "Well, as I said, it seems likely that we will have more allies here, soon." He reached out one hand and shook first Shepard's and then Ashley's own in the Human style. "Thank you and your team for your prompt assistance, Spectres. I believe that we part ways here."

"Councilor." Shepard inclined his head, followed by the more-junior Spectre. For all the famous friction between Humanity's first Spectre and the former Councilor Sparatus, it seemed that he had warmed to the Hierarchy's new man on the Council. It probably helped that Quentius had apparently taken Shepard's warnings more serious than had his predecessor, for all that he managed to keep it secret enough that Mallex had not even heard a whisper of Hierarchy experiments at ship-Spirit summoning.

The march back up the rows of auditorium seating facing the summoning-pool saw the _Normandy-2_'s team meet up with _Tenryu_ and her four charges, who immediately swarmed over the newest recruit. The heartwarming sight of the resulting pile of small ships struck at a nerve deep in Mallex's soul, for all that he would be loath to admit that to Ash.

He had the image of the 'Stalwart Turian' to maintain, after all. All 'stiff upper lip' as the Humans would say, which rather gave him an advantage in light of the dense plates that grew both above and below a Turian's mouth.

A pity that Ashley knew how to read the _actual_ emotional signs on the Turian face.

Shepard cleared his throat, breaking up the storm of '_nanodesu_' this and '_khorosho_' that. "It sounds like things have been wrapped up, topside. There's enough of an opening in the space-side battle for _Nor_— Joker to get shuttles through, but get aboard quickly and leave nothing behind."

Really, it was more of the sort of address one would give to new recruits coming back from their first field-exercise. But given the various characters on the _Normandy-2_'s ground team, spelling out the basics that way was probably a good idea.

"Oh! Okay, wait one second!" the younger — well, younger-_looking_, for all that she was years older than the second — _Normandy_ spun on one heel before running to the edge of the seating area. She raised her left arm, and an omni-tool-esque display popped up. The young Spirit took several photos of the summoning pool as well as the Councilor and his bodyguards before returning to the party. "Okay, now I'm ready!"

* * *

Mallex made _very_ sure to get into the same shuttle as both Shepard and the first _Normandy_. He knew a scoop when he saw one, and the public had ate up stories about that _Normandy's_ exploits even before she 'came back' as an adorably-energetic child.

The frigate in question disdained the bench seating, instead wandering around the crowded interior of the Kodiak, mandibles wide in wonder. "It looked so _small_ in my hangar…" Eventually, she ended up standing in front of Shepard. "Hey, Commander, I saw the letters on the outside." She pressed her nose in close to the seated Spectre's face, grinning like the child she was, but as if _years' _worth of birthday parties were all happening at once. "Does 'SR2' mean what I think it does!?" Her voice was giddy with excitement. "Do I have a sister!?"

Shepard smiled and held up one finger for a pause, before tapping a few commands into his omni-tool. The tac-screen along the front of the Kodiak's passenger compartment now changed to display a video feed, presumably from a front-facing camera on the vehicle. "You'll see."

"Oh! SPACE!" _Normandy_ climbed up onto the bench and stood next to Shepard, the top of her crest just level with the top of Shepard's head where he sat. From his seat, Mallex had the perfect image of the child-like frigate gazing wondrously at the view.

For several minutes, the compartment was silent as nobody wanted to interrupt the sheer _happiness_ writ large upon _Normandy_'s small face. In the end, she was the one to break it as the silver speck in the center of the display started to acquire the outline of _Normandy_-2. "Oh! Ooh, is that her? Is that my sister?" She asked without turning her head. "She's kinda…_big_."

Shepard turned around to send a meaningful glance at Vakarian. After a few seconds, the former C-SEC detective cleared his throat and stepped forwards from where he had been leaning against the wall. "Ah, the Alliance built two more frigates to your design, with some small changes. If I remember right, they called them _Ain Jalut_ and _Waterloo_." He stumbled slightly on the alien words, but then Mallex wasn't the one to ask if the names had been pronounced correctly.

"That's _so_ cool! But, uh, how _big_ were those changes? She looks pretty different from here…"

Apparently getting deeper into his new role, Vakarian answered slowly. "Well, that ship is not one of your sisters. But…" he delayed, getting the timing almost perfectly as the name written in large letters across _Normandy_-2's flank came into view around the swell of her hull, "she _is_ a '_Normandy_'?"

"I HAVE A _DAUGHTER!?_" screamed the Alliance's first _Normandy_, the uncontrolled subharmonics of an over-excited child clawing at Mallex's eardrums. "I HAVE A _DAUGHTER_!" The frigate leaned in so close to the image that she audibly _clunked_ her head against the display, before collapsing down to sit on the bench, staring at the wall, head tilted to one side in confusion. "I have a _daughter_?"

Vakarian chuffed a laugh, and the Spirit spun in her seat and looked between him and Shepard. "Wow, the Alliance really worked fast, huh?"

"Ah." Was the Spectre's only reply, as he visibly struggled on how to respond.

'Ah,' indeed. His fights against Cerberus during Shepard's tenure as the Commander of the first _Normandy_ were well-known. It was likely that the frigate held no love for the rogue organization, bordering on outright terrorism as they did.

"Oh. Was she build in the Hierarchy?" Two eyes peered closely at Shepard as he floundered, and with a very un-childlike focus. _Normandy-1_ then reminded Mallex that she _was_ a recon frigate, and for all that her stealth systems had stolen most of the attention she did have a very oversized sensor suite. "Okay, not Hierarchy. Uh, Republics? I guess they might do something like that…no?" Hesitantly, she asked, "The…Migrant Fleet?"

This time, the look that Shepard shot at Vakarian was less 'do your bit' and more 'save me!' So the former detective did his best to soften the blow. "Well, _Normandy_, it turned out that there were _many_ different groups trying to build their own, uh, _Normandies_. Some of them governments, and some of them, uh…" his subharmonics were loudly broadcasting his awkward uncertainty and embarrassment to anyone with ears.

_Normandy-1_ slouched back against the wall, brow-plates coming together with a click as she thought. After a few seconds stretched into a longer, embarrassed silence, she suddenly let out a breath. With a weariness that belied her small frame, the formerly-ecstatic frigate let out a faint "Cerberus."

Apparently her mind was certainly sharp, no matter her apparent youth. It would have been eerie had the pouting slant of her mandibles not been so Spirits-damned _cute_.

"Cerberus." Answered Shepard. "They built her, and they re-built me."

"They…built you?" Some energy returned to the _Normandy-1_ as she looked up in confusion. "But you got away. I _know_ you did. I _felt_ it, even through the— through the _pain_."

Ah. From her destruction, by the Collectors.

"I…_didn't_ get away, _Normandy_. I…died. Over Alchera."

A wordless cry escaped the small frigate as she reached over and hugged the Spectre, so tightly that Mallex swore he heard the Commander's armor creak in protest. "I'm So-o-o-ry!" wailed the Spirit.

Shepard brushed his thumbs against her cheeks, evidently forgetting that Turians lacked tear ducts. But Mallex could see _Normandy_'s inner eyelids flickering back and forth in an instinctual display of abject sorrow.

Ashley stepped past Garrus, and sat on the other side of _Normandy_ from Shepard. She leaned over and embraced the frigate, running one hand along her fringe repeatedly. "It's okay, _Normandy_. You got almost everybody to safety. You lasted much longer than a ship of your size _should_ have, getting ambushed by a cruiser out of nowhere like that."

"But I _shouldn't_ have gotten surprised at all! I'm a _stealth ship_! I don't _get_ ambushed! But I did, and everybody _died_!" For all her perceptiveness earlier, she now was the classic child: inconsolable upon discovering that they'd accidentally but innocently given the family pet food that ended up being poisonous to them.

But she was crying over the death of _military servicemen_; the whole situation was downright unsettling.

Ashley spoke very softly. "But lots of people _lived_ thanks to you, _Normandy_. Garrus lived, and Tali lived, and Liara lived, and Joker, and Doctor Chakwas, and—"

"I couldn't save _Jenkins_, and then _Kaidan_, and, and—" _Normandy_ descended again back into incoherent sobbing.

This time, several of the other Spirits stepped forwards. In fact, almost all of those in this Kodiak did. _Surcouf_, and _Ikazuchi_, _Inazuma_, _Scharnhorst_, the whole crowd. They crouched down in front of the wailing warship, and sat on the edge of the bench next to her. All as the hangar loomed in the camera feed, ignored.

"You can only do your best, _nanodesu_. And you did!"

"Yeah!" added _Inazuma_'s sister. "E-every ship can do her best to be dependable, but sometimes that's not enough! But it's not the ship's fault! It's not _your_ fault!"

_Scharnhorst_ nodded grimly. "We are _warships_, young _Normandy_. We are built for battle, for _fighting_. Every person we lose is a tragedy, but they knew what they signed up for. And your crew even more so, better than it was for us."

_Normandy_ managed to fight back her sobs enough to squeak out a single word. "Oh?"

"_Ja_. Your crew _knew_ that you were a living person, with much more certainty than even my most-devoted men. They _knew_ that some part of them would live on as part of you, _kleine Fregatte_. And they do."

"Hey!" added a small voice, as if waiting for her cue. _Normandy_ halted mid-sob, staring down at the procession of fairies that strode out onto her shoulder as if at a Naval review. One stood out, dressed in an impressionistic caricature of an Alliance Lieutenant-Commander's uniform. "Hey!" she repeated.

Mallex frowned, for all that the sight was fascinating. To the best of his knowledge, XO Pressly had looked _nothing_ like this small figure, save for the uniform. But then, from his readings he had learned that only very few ships returned with fairies that closely resembled any of their prior crew. The official conclusion, agreed upon by Humanity's Spirit-speakers and religious authorities, was that a ship-Spirit's fairies each held a _part_ of the spirit of one of her crew, but were not a full rebirth of that person.

That hadn't been enough to keep the Alliance from all-but-officially advertising Naval service as a path to 'immortality,' and from how outsized that navy was for the Alliance's size it seemed to be working.

"I—" whatever the consensus, _Normandy_ seemed taken with the sight as dozens of fairies saluted her in unison. "I—" Her nictating membranes were flickering back-and-forth over her eyes at an ever-increasing pace. Apparently giving up on vocalizing her answer, she slumped against Shepard's shoulder, eyes drifting closed.

"Hey?" asked another fairy, walking forwards and prodding at _Normandy_'s jaw with one pudgy arm. "Hey."

"Ah, asleep." Shepard nodded, careful not to shift the sleeping frigate. In a hoarse whisper, he added, "Well, back aboard you go, then."

"Hey!" _Normandy_'s fairies whispered as they saluted Shepard, waving farewell at him as they filed away into the various folds of the ship's formal uniform.

The assembled crowd of Spirits dispersed back to their seats around the other benches in the Kodiak just in time for the hatch to hiss open. The hangar outside was empty, save for an EDI avatar standing right outside the Kodiak, her normally-subdued face alight with happiness that slowly faded to worry as she gazed at her 'mother.'

Shepard and Ashley exchanged a glance, before Shepard carefully draped _Normandy-1_ across both hands and stood up.

Mallex suspected that the Commander had planned a more cheerful meeting between the two _Normandy_s. But as the ancient Father of the Hierarchy had said so many millennia ago, 'No plan survives contact with reality.'

At least the sight of Shepard gingerly carrying _Normandy_ off of the Kodiak and towards the elevator without a word was a rather tranquil end to what had become a rather draining expedition.

In the shuttle behind him, Mallex heard _Tenryu_ proudly proclaim — albeit in a tired, subdued voice — "Ya did good, girls." He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that the light cruiser had enveloped all four of her charges in an embrace likely just as tight as _Normandy_'s death-grip on Shepard's shoulder, earlier.

Mallex stepped out into the hangar along with Ashley, who gestured for EDI's avatar to walk with them as they set off towards the briefing room for the post-mission summary.


End file.
